


Last Try

by Loxxlay



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Torture, Loki Angst, M/M, Post-Thor: The Dark World, Protective Thor, so much self indulgence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-29 02:31:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3878788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loxxlay/pseuds/Loxxlay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a year of ruling Asgard under the guise of Odin, Loki comes to Thor for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> -First of all, special thank you so much to ughbea on Tumblr, who is an awesome author and really amazing friend, for beta-ing this chapter for me. :) <3
> 
> -Secondly, this story is not yet complete. So knowing me, there is potential risk of sloooowww updates, a perpetual WIP, and terrible plot holes. XD However, I do know where I am going, I do have a plan to get there, and I do have future scenes and chapters kinda-ish written. So I’m hoping everything will work out. Just wanted to give fair warning since this method of posting is new to me. ^.^
> 
> -Third, about the fic. Though I haven’t completely decided, this is originally written as pre-GotG and pre-AoU (post-TDW). No comic knowledge is involved. Also, there will be minimal amounts Thorki at the very least. And angst. As for triggers, oh, the usual. Blood, mentions of torture. I’m sure there will be suicidal references at some point, because it’s Loki plus my brand of self-indulgence, so.~ Playing with other ideas that might be triggers but I have not fully decided—I’ll let you know.
> 
> -Last but far from least, I hope you guys enjoy it! <3

 “ _Do you promise, little God?”_

_His eyes flicker open. Large, wrinkled hands hover over a tempting blue glow, flares of energy rising and falling by magic. He yearns to reach out toward them, to hold the cube, even just to touch it, but his wrists are bound tightly to the ground at their feet._

_There’s no fight in him anymore._

_He’s only a spineless monster now._

_He nods, and even that small movement sends fiery tendrils droning through his head, lighting the nerves near his left eye to flames—his jaw aches, his back aches, even his fingers ache. Not an inch of his body has avoided the pain._

“ _I want to hear you say it.”_

_Tears trickle down his cheeks, into his mouth. Swallowing to work the last drops of moisture through his throat, he parts his lips. “I swear it,” he says._

_It’s time to make this end._

I.

Thor stares at the table lined with glasses and bottles and silverware. The sun set long ago, after stretching dark shadows along the carpet, and now it's late enough that the rest of the Avengers have retired to their rooms.

While he misses their company, the solitude allows him to drop the mask of false cheer. It's been more than a year since he left Asgard, even longer since his brother drew his last breath in Thor's arms. Yet after all this time, it's still hard to maintain a spirited demeanor for long.

Everywhere he goes, a thick cloud of grief follows him, infecting his surroundings like a poison. He listens and laughs and jokes like anyone else, but eventually the darkness catches him and he cannot pretend anymore.

It was easier—before. Impermanent. His brother only flights of stairs away, sentenced for life but a sentence that could be erased in time. His mother even closer, always warm and gentle as a confidante to him for centuries. His father, a source of wisdom not lost in grief.

But his simple life is over now. His family has been torn to shreds.

Absorbed in his thoughts, Thor doesn't hear the trail of approaching footsteps until Steve Rogers has already taken the seat across from him. Unprepared for one of the Avengers to still be awake, Thor quickly rubs the rawness from his eyes and reaches for a bottle of beer.

“Are you doing any better?” the Captain asks.

“I am,” Thor says and chugs the weak liquid down. Though Midgardian alcohol has little effect on him, he still drinks out of habit.

“Really though?” Steve asks again.

He looks up from the bottle to see the Captain awaiting a more truthful answer.

Thor sighs. Were the others still present, he wouldn't even consider answering such a question—how could he spill the dreadful weariness in his heart to friends who already must manage their own suffering? Over the last year, Steve has proven his willingness to listen many times, but Thor still hesitates to voice his sorrow.

Instead, he forces a smile. “Truly, I am.”

Steve isn't fooled. He leans back in his chair and watches Thor with stubborn intensity.

Thor sighs. He cannot speak of the pain of losing his brother, but if past encounters have taught him anything, Steve will not leave until he has an answer. Hoping it will be enough, Thor thinks of more recent and less painful memories. “Though I suppose,” he admits, “not well enough for Jane.”

“How'd she take it?” Steve asks.

Images of her steadfast patience flash through Thor's mind. Memories of Jane's pleading voice calling for him to move, to eat, to sleep. Memories of her hands curling around his when he would shut down unexpectedly. All it took was a bright and clever smile spreading across her face, the way her eyes would alight with wonder at some scientific finding, or any other stray reminder of his loss of Loki to send him into a bout of anguish.

Thor admires Jane's empathy and her ability to understand for so long, but he couldn't in good conscious use her to fill the void in his heart. Not when there is no end for his mourning in sight, and her days stretch too few.

Thor tries for a small smile before answering, but the corners of his mouth don’t quite follow through. “She wanted me to stay, but she understood why I could not. She deserves more joy than I can offer.”

The clink of Steve's bottle against the table calls Thor's mind to the present. Across from him, Steve frowns with concern, and it warms Thor's heart to know his friend would rise to defend him.

“I'm sorry to hear that, Thor. You know you're always welcome here, don't you?”

The idea of his low spirits infecting yet another home doesn't appeal to Thor, but he appreciates the offer. He simply nods his thanks, worried Steve will learn too much if he speaks aloud.

“To be honest,” Steve says, “I don't know how you held up for so long. Everyone's lost somebody. Not many had to fight that somebody, too.”

Again, Thor avoids invasive thoughts of his brother. “Have you heard any news of your friend?” he asks instead.

Sighing, Steve shakes his head. “He should be safe for now. I'm worried, of course, but I think it's best if I just leave him on his own for a while. Let him find his way to me, you know.”

Thor nods, but his heart doesn't ring to those words.

Loki is dead.

The day before he died, Thor wrongly claimed Loki's life expendable to him. Worse, Loki believed him.

And still Loki upheld his promise to bring them to Svartalfheim. He protected a woman he cared nothing for, a woman Thor no longer has. He fought Dark Elves, killed the Kursed himself, and saved Thor's life at little reward for himself.

In return, Thor did nothing as Loki fell to the ground with a gaping hole in his chest.

Loki died in his arms.

Thor should have kept his brother out of harm's way, but now it's too late.

Jaw aching and mind swimming with self-loathing, Thor rises to his feet and nods in thanks to Steve's patience. “It's good to speak with you, my friend, but I believe I should retire for the night.” He is well aware of his poor timing, but as it is, he must leave before he crumbles into pieces.

Steve bids his goodnight without pressing for details, but after Thor takes two steps forward, he clears his throat.

It takes every cell in Thor's body to keep calm, and he doesn't dare to turn around and reveal the agony infecting his face. His feet itch to move, to escape, when at first, Steve says nothing.

Then, very quietly: “It wasn't your fault, Thor.”

His heart lurches in his chest, and his head mechanically nods to acknowledge the kind words. He departs towards the room Stark provided for the night, and fails to forget the raw memories of his brother called to the surface.

He prides himself on his prowess in battle. A great variety of foes have fallen by his hand, and all the realms consider Mjolnir a weapon of great power. Yet with all his might, he is always too late, too powerless, too _ignorant_ when it matters most—when someone's life is on the line. With all the chances fate has given him, he fears the result will never change.

Death will take all those he tries to protect.

Head down and mouth fighting back the misery, Thor enters his room. Once inside, he shuts the door behind him.

Only then does he manage to look up.

Concealed in shadows, Loki stands directly across the room.

Pale moonlight from the open window highlights his surreal, ashen skin, his hands hanging motionlessly at his sides. Not even his chest seems to move with the motion of breathing. The only sign of life is the slight shift to his eyebrows when Thor meets his gaze. It's unusual to see Loki so wary of him, let alone to see him here at all, that for a moment, Thor can only stare.

Perhaps the alcohol of Earth has dulled his mind. Perhaps he has already passed out on the floor and is reliving a cruel nightmare. He waits for the inevitable drop of space beneath their feet to steal his brother from him, as it does in those dreams, but the ground remains solid, captured in the stillness of their locked gazes.

Something about the image is too perfect—Loki looks much younger, as if the last two years haven't aged him as much as they have, and his armor lacks the familiar scratches and dullness of use. Perhaps Thor is seeing things and it's not Loki at all.

For a moment, he even believes in ghosts.

Loki stares back with a vacant expression that Thor cannot read. “Hello, Brother,” he says. His voice is softer than the whisper of wind through the nearby curtains. “Are you content to simply stare at me all night?”

The frozen moment shatters.

Thor crosses the room in three large strides. His hands reach out with every intention of choking apologies from his brother. Instead, they fiercely encircle Loki's shoulders and pin him between Thor and the plaster of the wall. His thoughts scramble—he has never been good with words—but they form together into one undeniable truth:

Loki is real.

Loki is alive.

A relieved sob cuts through his throat, and he presses his nose to Loki's neck, hardly believing the cool spring scent is no longer lost to him forever. Beneath his arms, Loki harshly inhales, his shoulders tensing, but Thor only clutches tighter to be certain he exists. He does.

Loki is alive.

Loki squirms in his grip, twisting certain parts of his body away from the physical contact, though the effort fails to grant him escape. It is strange enough for Thor to take a second look. He smells not only Loki's usual scent but an unmistakable tang of blood. Thor sobers enough to consider Loki might be in pain.

His brother's cruel chuckle interrupts the train of thought. “Not angry then? I can hardly believe the wonders Midgard has done for your temper.”

Then, Thor's rage does begin to boil as the reminder of his needless grief catches up to him. His hand clamps down on the scruff of Loki's hair to keep him in place.

“Ah, here we go,” Loki says.

“How did you— _why_?”

His voice roars throughout the room, and Loki goes silent.

Thor grips his brother's shoulders and shakes them wildly. He can barely breathe through the words building in his throat. “Loki! Why did you lie to me?” he growls. Beneath his anger, he notes Loki alarmingly isn't fighting him, but that only sharpens his rage. He wants to _hit_ something. “Why do you always _lie_ to me? Do you have any idea, any at all? How I suffered _every day_ without you! Over how you—how I couldn't—”

Thor sucks in a ragged breath and blinks rapidly. He sees Loki's eyes, wide and locked onto his face—but then Loki notices Thor's attention, and the pained expression smooths into another lie.

“You had the power to end my suffering!” Thor roars. “ _Where have you been?_ ”

Loki licks his lips.

Without thinking, Thor slams him into the wall.

He never would have expected the strangled cry that tears through his little brother's voice. Thor's blood runs cold, and words fall from his tongue while he examines his brother more closely. Loki laughs wildly to cover his slip, but Thor doesn't miss the subtle wave of green that shimmers over Loki's body. There are no visible injuries, but his brother is in pain. His brother—

“You're wearing a glamour,” Thor says. “Why are you wearing a glamour?”

A sneer twists the corners of Loki's mouth. He's about to lie.

Thor grips his shoulders more tightly. “Loki, you tell me what you are hiding right now, or so help me—”

“Shut up!” Loki shouts. “Shut up, and let me speak.”

Despite the hostile tone, Loki's entire body is vibrating—Thor can feel it where his hands still grasp shoulders. He vividly remembers how Loki's emotions came undone when they last fought upon the Bi-Frost, when Loki's anger sprang from desperate tears. How could he have missed the signs before? His brother is falling apart.

Loki shoves his arms away and stalks to the opposite end of the room, limbs stiff and straining as if every footstep unsettles a thousand daggers lodged within him.

Thor remembers how carefully Loki conserved his movement from the very beginning and wonders if this is why.

Though his blood still thrums with rage and he's a second from punching a fist-sized hole through the wall, he feels new reasons driving the anger. It unleashes a cloud of red haze to see Loki limping across the room.

“Loki, who—”

“Don't,” Loki growls. He angles his head so Thor can see the profile of his face, his raven eyebrows drawing into a strained line. His jaw is clenched tightly shut, but when it opens, his voice comes out soft. “Don't ask. Not yet.”

There are still so many questions, but it's been forever since he has seen his brother so vulnerable.

Loki sits gingerly on the edge of Thor's bed. His elbows rest on his knees and his head falls into his hands. The contact causes him to wince, and he lowers his fingers to his jaw, away from the left side of his face. “Something terrible has happened,” he murmurs. “I will answer all of your questions, but first, I need you to listen without interruption.”

Thor’s fists clench, but the gravity of Loki's gaze tugs at his heartstrings—suspicions catch up, of Loki _hurt_ , of Loki _afraid_ , of Loki coming to _him_ and no one else despite their ruined brotherhood. Thor can't ignore whatever troubles his brother, no matter how angry he feels. Sighing, he rubs a hand across his mouth. “Brother, you've struck me with your worst lie yet, and now you're already sitting on my bed, asking for favors.”

Loki's fierce green eyes settle on him. “Would you rather I'd died?”

“How does that—” A deep breath surges in his lungs to steady himself. “I would rather you tell me the _truth._ ”

“Thor, answer me plainly. I must know.”

 _Of course not!_ He's about to shout it when Loki holds up a hand.

“Honestly now. Think about it. Do you not wish I had died in truth?”

Thor's thoughts grind to a halt.

He does not have to do any soul searching to know his answer, but Loki's disbelief in his love hits him hard. Breathing deeply to keep calm, Thor moves over to a chair across from the bed and sits, leaning forward, staring right at his little brother.

“Make no mistake of it, Loki. I am _very_ angry. I would—” he swallows “—I would cast you in prison for another century for the pain you have caused me. I cannot forgive you for some time, but I would _never_ ,” he adds when Loki loses interest, “ _never_ wish death upon you, not even were it within the entire universe's best interests to wish so.”

Loki stares at him. “Do you mean it?” No matter how he veils it, a tremor still slips into his voice.

“Yes. You are my _brother_ ,” he says without hesitation. “And I will hear you out, as long as you swear to stay afterward and hear what I have to say as well.” Thor lets the stern warning in his eyes speak for him so that Loki knows he may be sacrificing much more than a simple ear to listen.

Though a bitter smile of acknowledgement crosses Loki's face, the threat does not deter him. “Relentless brute,” he mutters and returns his attention to rubbing his temples. “I swear it, of course.”

Loki pauses and closes his eyes for several seconds, until Thor is left wondering if he should speak first. Then, suddenly, Loki sits up straight and releases an enormous held breath.

“The Tesseract was stolen,” he says.

A jolt of urgency rushes down Thor's spine. He leans forward. “Stolen? From the vaults of Asgard? When?”

“A week ago.”

“A week! Why has no one from Asgard notified me?” His mind races through the immediate implications. “Who stole it?” Thor pauses and gives his brother a harder look. “Loki, don't tell me you—”

Loki sets a vicious glare upon him. “No, I did not steal the Tesseract, though I do very much appreciate your humongous effort to hear me out without comment.” His tone easily tempers Thor's outburst, and Loki allows the silence to settle before continuing. “The Tesseract . . . A portal opened inside the weapons' vault. By the time any forces could respond, they already had . . . captives. One in particular too valuable to risk losing—the All-Father.”

An odd glimmer rises in Loki's eyes, but Thor’s fear for his father overrules his distrust for the moment. “Did they—are the captives alive now?”

“They are.”

Thor frowns at the way Loki's eyes dart away near the end. “What of Heimdall? Why did no one send for me?”

“What good would you have done?” Loki laughs brokenly. “It was not their strength that held the vault, but the threat they posed to the All-Father. It was a battle of strategy, Thor.”

The barb to his intelligence spurs cruel thoughts through his head, but, true to his word, he keeps silent. It's true that if the entire city of Asgard could not stop this threat, then there would be little one man, even with Mjolnir, could do. Still, Loki didn't have to insult him to say it.

Taking a deep breath, Loki sits up slightly. “Besides, the Bi-Frost was shut down under . . . the All-Father's orders. Even if you could have helped, Asgard could not send for you without committing treason. It was—a talented attack. Very focused and well planned. There was nothing Asgard could do.”

Thor nods. He can see the dilemma now.

More importantly, he can see Loki is leaving something out. Usually, deciphering Loki's lies does not take so little effort. He notes how Loki hesitates to continue, lips parting and closing with a nervous dash of the eyes. Thor decides to try his luck. “There's something else. What is it?”

Loki's gaze snaps to Thor's, and he presses his lips into a thin line.

Rubbing a hand over his forehead, Thor sighs. “Loki—”

“You'll kill me,” Loki says. “I can't.”

Thor takes a moment to look his brother up and down while mulling through the story in his head. A lifetime of knowing Loki and his schemes guides Thor to the answer. “Loki. How did the portal open into Asgard?”

His brother's tongue darts out to lick his lips, and already he's shaking his head. “I don't know—”

“Don't lie to me.” Thor reaches out and grips Loki's knee. “I said I would wait until the end to make judgments, and I will. Let's hear it.”

Loki's mouth snaps shut, fists trembling, but there's an urgency in his eyes that eventually wins against his caution. “I . . . The guards saw the All-Father and his escort enter the vault, and so the whole of Asgard thought the invaders captured him.” He pauses to inhale deeply. “They were mistaken. The All-Father they saw was an illusion.”

 _Loki's illusion_ , he realizes.

Thor inhales deeply as he takes in the information, unable to react to the sheer magnitude of it. The breath puffs out of his chest. “What did you do to Father?” he asks, much more calmly than he feels.

“He's unharmed,” Loki says quickly. “He's resting. He has been in the Odinsleep for some time now.”

After scrutinizing Loki's expression for the usual signs of lying, Thor deems it to be the truth. “And why were you disguised as him in the weapons' vault?”

Loki looks away. “What do you want me to say?”

“What you were doing in the weapons' vault,” Thor grinds out more slowly.

“I don't have time for your lectures.”

“ _Lectures_? Gods, Loki! How can I trust even a word—”

“I opened the portal, all right?” Loki hisses. “Congratulations, you figured it out. I let them in. Oh, never mind that I hadn’t intended this to happen, never mind that I have been preparing for that moment all this time, spending hours upon hours perfecting the protective wards _I_ placed on the Tesseract, learning all I could to defeat—to—to prevent this from happening, to take them by surprise. All of _that_ is unimportant to the fact that my efforts amounted to nothing! Yes, I'm well aware! I failed! I'm _sorry._ ”

Loki's breaths shudder in the deadening silence, and Thor cannot even move for all the conflicting emotions warring within him. As they both breathe, Loki stares at the carpet until he calms enough to speak again. “Yell at me, distrust me, hate me all you'd like, it doesn't change anything. The Tesseract has been stolen. Do you want it back, or not?”

Thor plops back into his chair and presses a hand to the bridge of his nose. Mere hours ago he believed the worst event of the last months to have been his departure from Jane.

After hopelessly plowing through betrayal after betrayal, Thor had _finally_ caught temporary glimpse of the man who had stood loyally at his side for centuries—before losing him. Now his brother returns from the dead a second time, and tells Thor of how he opened a portal, allowing an enemy to launch an attack on their home.

The Tesseract is gone again. As if the entire battle of New York meant nothing.

He doesn't know if he can withstand any more.

Between his fingers, he sees Loki recoil and grip the edge of the mattress. “You promised you would not judge my words.”

“I'm not,” Thor chokes out, and presses his second hand to his face. It's all he can do to breathe, let alone think of how to respond. “Just—give me a moment,” he says, desperate for space to compose himself.

Burying jagged feelings of betrayal, Thor embraces the relief that Loki hadn't _meant_ harm by his actions this time, however deceptive and misguided those actions were. And Loki's right—there are more important concerns than past judgments. Who rules Asgard now, whose hands has the Tesseract fallen into, who was injured in the invasion— 

Thor abruptly becomes conscious of the palms of his hands pressed into his forehead. Lowering them, he catches Loki massaging his wrists as if to ease a cramp, and Thor can't help but worry what kind of marks are there, beneath the glamour.

Though Loki never directly stated so, it is clear the invaders captured his little brother. A _week_ ago even. and here Loki sits, in _pain,_ right now. Images of anyone hurting Loki immediately refocuses his mind onto the present. He takes a deep breath and sits up straighter. “Where is the Tesseract now?”

Loki keeps an eye on Thor as if to gauge his mood. “Outside of the Nine Realms. It's a place uncharted by our maps. Quite literally the slums of the universe.” Loki's eyes grow distant. “I should be able to find it again, with the right preparations.”

“All right,” Thor says. Though he wants more than anything to go to this place and crush the skulls of all who stand in his way, recent years have taught him better patience.

Tomorrow, he will go to Asgard. There will be information there that will help him understand whatever threat they face, and he can also ensure the throne has not fallen to the wrong hands. As much as he hates to distrust his brother, a visit there will also confirm Loki's story and set his mind at ease.

Decision made, Thor allows the overwhelming cascade of worry to wash over him, and he looks at Loki, who stares unseeingly at the space between them.

“Loki,” he calls softly.

Loki's head jerks towards him. When he catches the sympathy writ so plainly on Thor's face, he frowns and stands, limping a couple of paces away with his back turned to Thor. “I did not want to come here like this,” Loki admits. “I don't think I ever planned to reveal myself to you.”

The original agony of losing Loki rises in his throat, and Thor swallows.

“Luckily for you, I am in need of your help. If you choose to ignore me, I . . .” Loki laughs, though it's dry and weary and followed by a ragged breath. “I will not be able to fix this on my own, loathe as I am to say.”

Standing, Thor faces Loki's back. “What are you asking of me?”

“I need you to defeat this enemy for me. I—I can't.” Though he conceals it well, Loki's voice cracks near the end. “It was my fault. I thought I could handle—I made a mistake, and I have lied to you. Over and over. You have no reason to help me.” Loki pauses. “But the universe will be in danger if it is not fixed, regardless of what I had to do with it. If you need proof, I will give it to you, but please—”

“Loki, stop.” Thor steps forward and hesitantly plants a hand on his brother's shoulder. Loki winces at first, until Thor finds a place for his hand to rest without causing any pain. “I will require proof, but once I have it, I will help you. We will deal with the rest later. I swear it.”

Loki nods, the tension easing from his shoulders. “Honorable, of course.”

He pauses, turning to face Thor, and carefully brushes the hand away from his shoulder. The relief and despair mix upon his face so beautifully that Thor feels overcome with urges he has not acknowledged for centuries.

“Well, that is all,” Loki says. “Be done with it then. Do remember we have work to do, so try to be gentle if you must rattle me.”

“What?” Thor blinks. “Be done with what?”

“My oath. I swore to hear you out after I'm done explaining myself,” Loki says. His eyebrows rise expectantly.

“Oh.”

In truth, Thor’s rage has subsided to the point where he doesn't need this promise anymore—not until the Tesseract and their enemy are taken care of. The urge to protect spreads again through his chest now that he knows his brother is truly alive.

“Will you tell me?” Thor asks instead, not quite willing to sacrifice time Loki vowed to spend with him. “What happened to you?”

Loki hesitates. “I assume you've already guessed.”

So he's right. Thor frowns, more distressed than anything. “May I see?”

There's no question to what he refers to. Loki arms rise as if to cover himself, but Thor catches them before they can fold over his chest. “Thor, stop.” Loki stumbles backward, shaking his head. “There's nothing to see, I'm fine.”

Thor moves with his brother and grasps his shoulders to keep him from falling. “You're not fine.”

“And you're overreacting. I don't need—you don't have to—”

Just as Thor realizes he is not helping, Loki's foot catches on the leg of a chair, sending his back straight into the wall. He gasps in pain, and shoves his palms into Thor's chest. “Damn it, Thor! I will remove the glamour, but would you _back off_?”

“All right, all right.” Thor holds his hands up and moves away to give his brother some room, and the distance seems to strengthen his brother's composure.

After releasing a drawn-out breath, Loki straightens and moves towards the bed. Again his back faces Thor, this time with purpose. The air reeks of the metallic taste of blood as Loki's entire form shines green with the release of a glamour.

First, Thor sees the raven hair tangled into clumps of blood and sweat. Then his eyes travel downward, noting, with jarring horror, burns and lashes all across Loki's back, tearing not only past the leather of his ruined clothes but also skin. In some places, the red flesh has knit itself back together over fraying fabric caught in the way. In others, wounds still openly bleed. Thor's eyes travel down the rivers of blood on his brother's sleeve, only to find several of his fingers hanging in a crooked mess.

Blood boiling, Thor sees signs of more injuries lying underneath the clothing. It disgusts him to imagine his little brother's tormentors stripping Loki to inflict even more pain. Just as Thor starts to calculate _exactly_ how much damage he must avenge, Loki turns, once again giving Thor a view of his profile.

Shadows dance across the pale, sickly shade of his brother's skin and further conceal the side of his face that Loki won't reveal. “I assume you are satisfied,” he says, “so may I go for the night?”

Without answering, Thor steps forward and reaches cautiously for his brother's chin. Loki does not fight him, even as Thor turns his head and catches sight of an ugly burn marring the corner of his face, sealing one green eye fully shut. Thor's fingers tremble with indefinable emotion, and he isn't sure which he wants more—to smother his brother in affection or to torture the culprits until they scream for death.

“Why haven't you sought any healers?” he asks.

“What, shall I barge into Asgard and demand treatment for the villainous traitor of the Nine Realms?”

Though tremors in his voice suggest that he's equally upset, Loki _still_ did not seek help or treat his injuries. Growling, Thor takes Loki by the shoulders and sits him down on the bed. “You changed your appearance easily enough for me.”

“And how, might I ask, can healers heal what they cannot see?”

“There are healing stones! Balms and medicines you could find!” Thor rummages through his half-unpacked bag of a change of clothes and essentials that he dropped here at the start of the night. His hands grope for the pouch of stones he carries in case of an emergency. “You would not even need to go to Asgard for them, as I have them right here!”

“Great and noble Thor advising me to steal now.”

Thor rips the pouch from his bag and opens it viciously. “Even you can perform basic spells to close wounds and soothe pain.”

“Yes, and had I shown myself to you, free of injury,” Loki snarls, “I am certain you would not have reacted as kindly as you had.”

“Because you never _tell_ me these things. I have to guess! _Try_ next time.” Stones in hand, Thor rises to sit on the bed and works on the fastenings of Loki's clothes. He moves as slowly as he can to not upset the injuries where cloth has woven into healed skin.

Loki lets out a weary sigh. “This is unnecessary, you know. And a waste of time better spent preparing.” Despite his words, his tone lacks any urgency—Thor recognizes it immediately as an excuse to leave.

“Shut up and be still.”

True to his word, Loki sits unmoving while Thor applies the balm he has on hand to the burns and gouges. Even when Thor must tear the fabric from the skin, Loki stays still, though the series of strangled moans suggests his strong desire to do otherwise. After spending several minutes spreading cream as gently as he can on Loki's face, Thor starts to peel the rest of Loki's tunic off to attend the more serious wounds underneath.

He finds carved runes marking his little brother's collarbone, winding all the way up Loki's neck where it stops directly under his chin. He traces the skin between the letters with muffled anger. Thor is not an expert on runes, but he can decipher enough to know that it is a geas blocking some extent of Loki's magic.

“I came here right after I escaped,” Loki whispers so suddenly Thor nearly jumps.

There's a stillness to Loki's face that screams for Thor to just _stay quiet_ , so Thor does. He turns his gaze back to the wounds and cracks healing stones over the ones that could become infected.

Loki breath hitches at a particularly nasty wound. “The geas—you might have noticed it,” he says. “I can't use my magic, anyone's magic, against—against his now.”

Thor tries to picture what it would be like to lose power against a terrifying enemy. He imagines losing Mjolnir, but even that cannot compare, for Loki's magic is inherent and personal in the way a weapon cannot be. He rests a hand on Loki's shoulder to soothe while he continues doing the best he can to heal.

“I—there were spells that encased the Tesseract, to protect it—I knew he would come eventually, so I did everything I could to catch him by surprise. I overestimated my ability. I—I thought I could stop him.” Loki laughs a little, but it rings of horror. “The day I opened the portal, to kill him, he took me and he broke the spells out of me, one at a time—until I'd lost everything. I can still cast,” he says, “but—not at him, nor at his magic—that's why, I couldn't . . . h-help myself.”

It takes everything in Thor not to overwhelm his brother with affection when Loki chokes back his tears.

During the silence, his little brother regains his composure. “You can try to erase the runes, but it won't work. Those scars won't fade—not until he's gone.” Loki's breath shudders his entire upper body. “He had planned to seal the rest of my magic an hour ago.”

Thor puts the stones away and finally looks Loki in the eye, only to find Loki staring back at him. Not fondly, yet also not like the stranger he has become.

“You are the only person left that I still trust,” Loki says.

Thor gently presses a kiss to Loki's shoulders, near the runes. When Loki goes still, Thor wraps strong warm arms around his brother's shoulders. “Stay here tonight. I want you to rest.”

Tense in his arms, Loki does not speak for a long time. “I have to prepare. We don't have much time.” It's another excuse.

“We can both go—tomorrow. Loki, I need you to stay here.” _Where I know you're safe and where I can protect you._ “Please.”

Loki glances over his shoulder to stare directly into Thor's eyes. Thor summons all of the devotion and sincerity that he can muster until Loki's features soften. “Alright.”

Relieved, Thor pulls open closet doors and cabinets in the room until he finds bed sheets he can rip into shreds to bandage Loki's injuries.

Once his job satisfies him, Thor gathers one of the blankets and makes for a nearby chair.

“Where are you going?” Loki asks from his spot on the bed.

Thor glances briefly at his brother. “To sleep.”

“Then you're going the wrong way.”

Cautiously, Thor stops, and they stare at each other. He knows what he wants—and he knows what he _should_ do, because Loki has always valued privacy and space above Thor's desire to hold him. He also knows he cannot share the same bed without his thoughts flying somewhere beyond brotherly affection—and he can't do that to Loki, especially after what he's been through.

Loki rolls his eyes and stiffly scoots across the bed, leaving an empty space beside him, and Thor cannot hold his longing within himself anymore. He inhales sharply— _Loki is alive, he's alive, he's alive_ —and he returns to the bed.

They lay down facing each other, and Thor wants to touch him for all that he still can't believe it to be true. He remembers the last time—when Loki returned to him from the dead, so different and manic, as if crazed. Now that he better knows the signs, Thor starts to wonder. “Did the Chitauri hurt you?” he asks. “When you were with them?”

Loki stiffens. “What?”

“Two years ago,” he says. “When you . . . had the Tesseract the first time.”

“Oh.” Loki's eyes shut down. “I don't see why it matters.”

The idea of Loki being even slightly pressured to attack Midgard would be a relief—how easy it would be to forgive his brother for betraying him, for the phantom pain of a knife in his gut that could finally fade to nothing. Concern for Loki quickly follows, strengthening his need to know. “It matters to me,” he says. “Loki, it does matter—”

“It _did_ matter,” Loki corrects. “You're late to ask.”

Thor grits his teeth before he can say something outrageously sentimental, and reaches to pull Loki closer. Loki's entire body stiffens. Thor wonders how long it's been since someone has touched Loki without the intent to harm. As Thor continues to tug him into an embrace, Loki's breathing picks up and he starts to push at Thor's chest.

“Shh, it's all right,” Thor murmurs, but he releases his hold until Loki settles a safer distance away. “It's not too late,” he promises. “We'll work this out.”

Loki doesn't answer, but he lets Thor lie close enough for their arms to touch.

“Thank you,” Thor says, the words unbearably lodged in his mouth.

When he wakes sometime in the night, Loki is gone, and if not for the rumpled space beside him, Thor would believe everything to be a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~To be continued. 
> 
> Sorry if there were errors in spacing. For some reason I had problems uploading it here, so I tried to fix what I saw. But I might have missed a couple.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> Would like to thank my two dear friends IRl Sean (G-rox-theninja on Tumblr) and Andrew for reading through this chapter and giving me feedback. Thank both of you so much!! <3 I dedicate this chapter to the both of them. Hope the rest of you enjoy and thank you so much for reading. :)
> 
> There are no more warnings for this chapter than in the last... Unless you don't like caves. In that case, you should just steer clear of my writing in general apparently. XD

_The thump of footsteps nears Loki’s bound hands. Memories ingrained in his fractured fingers rise to the surface, and his entire body stiffens, bracing for pains that do not come. He clenches his jaw to keep his lips from trembling._

_"Lift him_ _there_ _,_ _" a voice rumbles._

_They unbind a chain keeping his wrists tethered to the ground and pull him towards the Tesseract. Already his mouth dries and his neck strains with tension to keep his face away._

_Ahead, his enemy watches from a floating throne. “You know that resistance is meaningless. Release your ward now, and I might grant you mercy.”_

_It’s his last ward. He has already lost the others, already told them everything they want to know. This is the end. The Nine Realms’ last line of defense. The only thing that still belongs to him. Knowing his choice, Loki’s body betrays him. Harsh breath speeds in and out of his lungs. His sore heart pounds adrenaline through his veins. “No,” he gasps and clenches his eyes shut._

_In the end, it doesn’t matter._

_They press down his head, and he loses the ward anyway. Below his piercing scream and the jolt of unbearable pain, he knows that all is lost, that nothing can change now._

_It’s only a matter of time._

II.

When Thor next wakes, Loki stands near the window and surveys the pink, morning sky. Dawn is just breaking, and its early light illuminates the heavy weathering upon Loki’s armor—and his body. There are bruises now, rather than wounds, lingering behind the holes and tears in the fabric.

He isn’t wearing the glamour. Thor appreciates this fact because it confirms last night to be real. Sitting up, he rubs the weariness from his eyes.

“Good morning,” Loki says without turning. “I trust you slept well.”

In truth, Thor hasn’t slept well in quite some time. When there aren’t nightmares, there are dreams, which are always worse upon waking. Dreams of catching Loki’s wrist instead of Gungnir. Dreams of traveling to the Chitauri homeland and bringing his brother home.

Last night, Thor dreamed the Kursed stabbed his chest with his brother a safe distance away, and then—he woke only to find his brother gone. With the memory surfacing, deep grief rises in his throat. While he’s too tired to be angry, he still can’t let the feeling go. “Where did you go?” Thor asks. “You said you would stay.”

Loki’s wrist drums against his thigh. “I lied.”

Thor wants to be say more, but his brother has lied about worse things—even recently. “Did you sleep at all?” he asks instead.

Loki turns to face Thor, and the burn on his face is just as startling as it was the first time. Despite the salve Thor applied, it has hardly healed at all. “As much as I appreciate your concern,” Loki says, “we have more important worries. I know someone who is willing to verify my story for you. Will that be proof enough for now?”

Thor has already planned to journey to Asgard, but he thinks that it won't hurt to let Loki tell more of his side first. “Who is this person?”

“A Norn.”

Surprised, Thor gives Loki a second look as he climbs out of bed. Nornheim is renowned for their isolation from most affairs of the Nine Realms. It's been at least an age since any have journeyed outside of their territory, let alone into the very halls of Asgard. “A Norn was in Asgard at the time of the invasion?” he asks.

Loki sighs as he starts to pace around the room. “She _lives_ on Asgard—but not near the palace. She is unlike the other Norns. Her unique foresight and knowledge of the universe can show you the threat posed to the universe, now that the Tesseract has fallen into the wrong hands.”

Thor frowns. “How do you know of this woman? Is that where you went last night, instead of resting? Searching for a Norn? Off realms away on your own?”

“No,” Loki says, his eyes narrowing. “I’ve known of her for centuries. And if you must know, I didn’t leave Midgard last night. I went elsewhere because I needed space to communicate with her through magic, to let her know we are coming. And to warn her that _you_ are apparently still naive and foolish as ever.”

Thor exhales slowly. “What do you mean by that?”

“This isn't some little quest for you to embark on,” Loki hisses, “not an errand to run, or something to consider after a late lunch or a good night’s sleep. This is _real_ , Thor. We have little time to waste on your _concern_ for me.”

“I know that—” Thor says.

“Well then, instead of badgering me with irrelevant questions, do you mind putting on your boots?”

Sighing, Thor reaches for his boots, and sits down on the bed to tug them onto his feet. Beside him, Loki turns and paces to the window again, and Thor catches sight of his fingers that are still twisted and broken. It is clear setting them the night before has done little, that Loki has used his hands overnight.

At once, any irritation fades.

Loki’s injuries will not heal properly like this.

However panicked and afraid his brother is, it is not like him to disregard patience and forethought in the face of powerful adversaries. In truth, keeping his head in a fight has always been Loki’s strength. For him to lose his head now can only mean he needs a great deal of rest.

Thor ties his laces, and moves to put on a fresh shirt from his bag. “This place—getting there. Will it be dangerous?” he asks, putting arms through the sleeves. His eyes linger on the bruises layering his brother’s skin.

“Everywhere is dangerous now,” Loki says, low and toneless, “but yes, this place will require a fair amount of caution.”

Thor takes a breath. “Why don't you send me alone?”

Loki turns and gives him a hard look. “Why?”

Again, Thor glances towards the numerous injuries, primarily the red burn surrounding Loki’s eye, and he scrambles for some kind of excuse. “One of us should remain safe to warn others of the danger,” he tries.

Loki's gaze cuts straight through Thor's lie, and his jaw clenches. “My apologies. I didn't realize it bothered you so much.” Green light shines over the pallor of his skin. The evidence of burns and injuries sweeps away under a cloak of flawless complexion. When he finishes, Loki lifts his chin as if to challenge Thor to speak.

And Thor wants to—he wants to tell Loki to reverse the glamour, he wants to insist Loki stay safe here, to stay protected—but it’s useless to fight against Loki’s pride, no matter how much Thor longs.

Instead, he swallows most of his protectiveness and dons his bag. “If something happens, you stay behind me.”

Loki's eyes blaze. “If something happens, you would do well to remember all the times I saved your neck from your own stupidity. I've survived well enough on my own for years.” He gestures Thor forward. “Now hold on to me, and don't let go.”

Glaring, Thor thinks to himself that it's only ever been Loki who has let go.

He grasps Loki's outstretched hand, and then the floor drops from beneath his feet. Everything goes dark. There's nothing here in this strange lapse of space. Thor wonders for a moment if this is The Void—if Loki fell here years ago and escaped with newfound skill. Skill that allows him to use this place as he pleases now.

He nearly forgets to hold on—until Loki's grip tightens around his fingers and grounds him. It reminds him that he is not alone.

Once again, relief surges through him at that simple fact—his brother is alive. Real and _alive_.

The spinning vortex swelling in Thor’s head abates in the next moment, and he finds himself at the opening of a cave that shimmers much like the other cave Loki had once used to get them to Svartalfheim. Thor had assumed that cave was the only portal Loki knew, but then, his brother has always clung steadfastly to his secrets.

Thor looks at Loki now and finds him doubled over, his hands on his knees and his breath coming out in pants.

“What is it?” Thor asks, forgetting all of his suspicions as a deep concern washes over him. He rests a hand on Loki's back, pressing it in small circles. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Loki breathes, and pushes Thor away.

Thor stumbles backward and stares at his brother in concern.

After a moment, Loki pushes himself from his knees and stands straight again. His breath still drags heavily, but he pretends otherwise and moves to make his way into the cave. “I have not explored this place in years,” Loki says. “Be wary of beasts or otherwise.”

Still uncertain that Loki should be venturing into this cave at his current health, Thor takes the lead to ensure whatever comes at them must get past him first. Though Loki glares at the treatment, he doesn't protest, which worries Thor—stubborn as he is, Loki will not tell him, but there is something wrong.

The cave smells dank, and the floor beneath their feet feels soft—almost like moss, but without enough sunlight, Thor hesitates to call it so. Stagnant water pools in the expanse of the ground, and the sound of splashing beneath their feet eerily echoes against the cave walls. As the light begins to fade, Thor uses his hands and feet to navigate more than his eyes.

When it is dark enough that he can scarcely see his own hand in front of his face, Thor stops. It's too dangerous to proceed without light, and immediately he is stunned by the realization that Loki hasn't provided any, as he has always done in their youth.

Thor turns to his brother. “Can you not cast a light source?”

In the darkness, Thor hears Loki's breathing pause. There's silence in the cave, until a shiny orb of green appears before them illuminating beads of sweat across Loki’s forehead.

Thor frowns. “Are you all right?”

“Just go,” Loki hisses, but it lacks its usual bite.

Thor hesitates, but the sooner they reach their destination and get out, the sooner he can press Loki for answers.

They make their way deeper into the cave, the air stale and damp in their lungs. Trickling water resonates through the cave walls, drowning out the sound of their footsteps. The green light of Loki's magic reveals moss and soaking rock, and Thor starts to check his step to be sure the pools of water aren’t deep. Behind him, Loki often slows, his breaths coming in short gasps, but whenever Thor turns, Loki simply barks a curt demand to keep going.

When they reach an intersection, Loki gestures towards the left. “It's there,” he says.

Thor nods and presses forward. The hole grows smaller and smaller, until they reach the end of the tunnel and one last crevice leads them to a wider space.

Inside, tapestries line the walls, lit by magefire encircling the bottom corners of the floor. There are chairs to a table on one side, blankets and a cot at another, and dozens of books and various artifacts cluttering free spaces. It would resemble Loki’s old room, the room of a scholar’s, in a way, if not for the craggy cave walls and the rocky floor.

“Princes,” a woman says from her spot in a chair. “Welcome to my home.”

Startled from having missed her presence beforehand, Thor jerks to look at her. Her hair hanging nearly to her feet looks thin and white, and her face looks gaunt, age spots and wrinkles marking the corners of her eyes and the expanse of her forehead--but, no.

No, that’s wrong.

Thor blinks, and he thinks he sees a young woman with thick raven hair, and a face young and beautiful--or, are those the plump cheeks of an infant and the flat chest of a child?

He quickly checks her eyes--experiences always mark the eyes of the old--but her eyes seem to not have an age at all. It hurts to make sense of the void of her eyes. It hurts his head to make sense of her at all, other than that she is a Norn.

It’s like no other Norn Thor has ever known. He looks to Loki to confirm his confusion, but his brother seems at ease in this place. Loki moves towards one of the many tapestries, and traces his fingers across one where the markings follow the pattern of a circle.

“This one is new,” Loki says.

The Norn smiles, wrinkles both deepening and not there at all. “‘New’ is a relative term.” She rises from her chair and moves forward to a small pool of water filling a podium in the middle of the room. “Come here,” she says.

Loki stands by the pool with no hesitation, and Thor follows behind somewhat uncertainly. “We are here,” Thor says, straightening his shoulders and standing tall, “to ask you what dangers have been posed to the realms now that the Tesseract has been taken from Asgard.”

“I know why you are here. Your brother has already spoken to me.”

Thor frowns. He knows he’s more discomforted by the fact that he is the only discomforted one, but it does nothing to ease his wariness. He can’t make out her age--it feels wrong somehow, and he dislikes that his brother knows this place well enough to be comfortable here. He wonders what they spoke of without him last night while he lay in bed, worried and alone.

After a silence, the Norn reaches down to dip a finger in the pool. Unnaturally bright and unending ripples flow from where she touches the water. “The Tesseract has existed since existence began. It is timeless,” she says, straight to the point, “and dangerous. Look closely.”

Thor moves closer.

“For you, these ripples portray the passage of time,” she says. “The flow from beginning to eternity, from life to more life. Do you understand?”

Glancing at Loki, who resolutely stares at the pool, Thor scratches the back of his neck with his hand. “Yes, I think so,” he says. If each ripple represented a year, then the flow of one hundred could represent a century. He nods to himself, more certain.

The Norn lifts her chin in acknowledgment. “In my early years, I studied the way we view time. I have learned that life only ever becomes stronger and more assured. It has always been a rising crescendo of energy.” As she speaks, the ripples dash even more brightly from her finger. “What I have never seen, in all the years I spent developing my foresight, is _this_.” She gestures with her free hand towards the water.

All at once, the ripples stop—just as unnaturally as they began. Thor wonders instinctively if it means people have died.

“The future ahead of you is broken.”

“Because of the Tesseract,” Thor guesses.

“In a form.” The Norn withdraws her hand from the pool. “The Tesseract is powerful—it can tear into any dimension the user sees fit and can provide source of energy to meet any end. But the Tesseract itself is not the exact cause of the impending danger. Look again.”

Straightening, she raises her arms, and tendrils of color snake from her fingers to the pond. Thor recognizes the familiar markings of the tree of Yggdrasil as they form. The illusion in the waters narrows onto the roots of the tree, and Thor sees depictions of famed beasts at the forefront, tearing the base of the realm apart.

“Niflheim, where baited by the Tesseract, Nidhoggr may run the roots of our worlds dry.”

Then the image pans upward, fiery and red. Countless shadows of figures rise in the images of the pool, and Thor watches as their wrath infects the rest of the tree, spreading like a plague from one realm to the next.

“Helheim, where the dead may be allowed free roam to destroy each branch from the inside.”

When the images in the pool reach Asgard, the golden realm appears dull and dark, and even darker shadows veil an empty throne. The Bi-Frost shines the brightest, but Thor realizes it’s only because it is sapping the strength of the other realms. Just as Loki tried to do to Jotunheim. Thor clutches Mjolnir on his belt, nervously.

“Asgard,” the Norn finishes, “where Yggdrasil may be enslaved and destroyed from the height of its power and down.”

Her arms fall, and the illusion in the pool fades to still empty water.

Thor cannot free his mind of the terrible destruction he has seen. Beside him, Loki’s hands tremble at his sides, his jaw tightly clenched, and Thor is grateful he’s not the only one affected. He moves closer to his brother, brushing their shoulders together, to remind Loki he is not alone.

The Norn remains silent for a time, allowing their thoughts to settle, before she backs away from the pool, knitting her hands together in front of her. “Any of these and more could come to pass as long as the Tesseract remains in the wrong hands,” she says. “It should be locked away safely and rarely used. Its power corrupts the mind with false confidence and lust for power. _Any_ hands may turn wrong, given the time.”

Stiffening, Loki huffs a strained laugh and paces away from Thor. His shoulders tighten as his back is turned, and long years of brotherhood have taught Thor to give Loki his space. Nodding to the Norn, he steps forward to cover for his brother. “I will retrieve the Tesseract and ensure that it is safely locked in our vaults. You have no need to worry.”

“I do not doubt your power nor commitment, only that you lack a certain understanding. It is possible that one of these events, or another, has already begun.” Her ageless eyes flicker to Loki and then back to him. “It is possible that you have already failed in this time.”

“I understand that it may be too late,” Thor says, “but that will not stop me from doing what I must on the chance that there is something we can still do.”

The Norn shakes her head. “You must have another plan. Something to enact if you fail and the realms do fall.”

Thor feels the crease between his brow forms. “If I do not fix this before that happens, then how is there a way to fix it after?”

“You worry that time is a sequence of events, the past set in stone, and the future free. Do—then this. Don’t—then that. A step means to progress. A fall means to land.” The Norn smiles, wrinkles carving her face of stone. In the next moment, she looks young. “This is not time. This is your perception.”

She pauses and paces towards her tapestries, brushing a hand across the circular scriptures. Thor finds that even with her eyes out of sight, it still hurts his mind to look at her. He can’t even decide if her hair is an aged white or a younger black.

Then she turns, and her eyes without age force Thor to look away. “Time consists of patterns and cycles,” she explains. “The future, the past, and the present do not exist. Eternity passes in a heartbeat. That is why I live so long and know so much; that is why you cannot comprehend me when you look at me. Time itself does not exist; it is simply how _you_ exist.”

Somewhat frustrated, Thor shakes his head. “The Tesseract was stolen, and if I want to have it back, how can I do anything but retrieve it _now_?”

The Norn raises her eyebrows. “In some times, the Tesseract was never stolen. In other times, you fail to retrieve it and the Nine Realms cease to be. It is simply a matter of where you choose to exist.”

Thor’s fists clench. “I can’t just _choose_ for the Tesseract not to be gone!”

“No, she's right, Thor,” Loki cuts in softly, a few paces away. “Time is not linear. It just makes more sense to pretend so.”

Thor is about to turn and fume his frustration on his brother instead, but then the Norn raises a slender, or bony, finger towards Loki. “You have been touched by this time,” she says. “You have the ability to manipulate it. To choose where to exist.”

Loki stills, and Thor looks at him, searching for any sign of what she speaks. Then Loki’s face clears, and a wave of confusion crinkles his forehead instead. “I must admit, I am as much at a loss as Thor. I may understand the theory, but it is purely on a philosophical level.”

Thor can’t tell if he is lying, but it makes no difference. They have the Tesseract to retrieve and an enemy to slay. Arguing over time is not what he came for. And yet the Norn still stares intently at his brother, as if locked in a trance.

“So,” Thor says. Her gaze does not budge. “With your . . . gift with time, you must have some idea how much longer we have before the realms are destroyed?”

The Norn’s lips curve in amusement, her features softening. “You hear me, Odinson, but you do not listen.” Her eyes finally travel over to his, and it burns his eyes to watch her. “For you, it will depend entirely on your enemy’s method,” she says. “The quickest end may take weeks, or days, or even hours, I cannot say. You should make haste. Though . . .”

Her eyes wander towards Loki, and Thor realizes with a start that Loki has no trouble meeting her gaze.

“Haste should not come at the expense of preparation. Else, it will not matter how soon you arrive. Do you understand?”

Thor begins to nod, already planning to return to the palace of Asgard and learn what he can before taking any rash measures, but he sees the question is not for him--it is for Loki.

In the dim light, his brother’s face looks hollow and pale, haunted by thoughts that Thor cannot decipher. Loki has spoken so little since they came here, a silent observer to their conversation. And now, he looks almost—sad.

“I understand,” Loki says finally. “I do not like it, but I understand what you have said.” He glances at Thor and smiles carefully. “Iwon’t let Thor fail you.”

It sounds so like Loki to say that, and Thor’s heart surges with warmth. He finds himself smiling back effortlessly, any uncertainties swept away.

“Good.” The Norn returns to her seat and spreads her arms as she sits, wrinkles and age spots just as apparent as her bright and youthful skin. “I may seem above all of this, but in truth, I rely upon your success as much as any other. If not in this time, then the next.”

-

They make their way back towards the cave and start towards the long tunnel to the surface.

Thor moves along the wall, eyes squinting in the dark to make out a safe trail back. He again takes the lead, but Loki does not seem even slightly offended. His eyes dart around the cave as if hunting for a ghost.

Uneasy, Thor takes Mjolnir in hand and presses on.

It takes him until they reach the forked paths in the cave to realize why it's more difficult to navigate the uneven terrain. His brother’s light source is gone. “Loki,” he begins, but the sound of a dislodged rock tumbling through moving water cuts him off.

He turns, and likewise, Loki is looking in its direction. Instead of suspicion, a wave of fear crosses Loki's face, and he goes still.

“Brother, what is going on?” Thor demands.

Then silver creatures lunge at them from the shadows.

Without thinking, Thor swings his hammer over the first one's skull. The second one he blocks with his hammer, as a third creature slips past his barrier and collides with his brother. Loki gasps, but Thor hears the familiar sound of an unsheathed blade hit its target and knows his brother is capable.

The creatures continue to spring from all around them, from nowhere. He can’t quite make out what they look like in the dark, but their movements seem oddly familiar—Thor kills the one in his grip and throws another away and watches its shadow sink into the sludge of stagnant water. It gives him time for his eyes to dart around and estimate their numbers.

There's several, but he believes they can handle it. He whirls his hammer, knocking away the incoming ones from getting too close, and he positions himself in front of Loki to protect him. Loki grapples with one that manages to slip past and he slams his dagger into its neck, several times after it's already dead. A feral look glimmers in his eye, and were they not in the middle of battle, Thor would have questioned even that bloodlust.

The enemies don't dwindle—they keep coming and coming from up ahead, trapping Thor and Loki from reaching the exit of the cave and soon from going any deeper either. Thor feels the back of a wall as they corner him, and though these creatures are weak and his energy vast, Thor knows that they cannot continue this forever.

“Where are they coming from?” he growls.

Loki fells another with trembling hands, and his eyes dart around the cave while Thor holds off the rest. “There,” he points. “I need to close it.”

Thor's eyes follow to find a dull blue aura several feet away. Between waves of illumination, Thor catches sight of a different dimension, black and dead, unlike the cave they are in.

It's a portal, he realizes.

Amidst the fiery red field of his vision—he understands.

Though the creatures attack both of them, they're here for Loki. These are the beings that stole the Tesseract. These are the creatures that held Loki for a week, those who beat him bloody, who burned him. The creatures that sealed his little brother's magic and traumatized him.

Not only once, but twice, for he recognizes them now.

They are the Chitauri.

Mjolnir hangs heavy in his hand, and he grips it tighter. The frenzy of the battle fades to a calm, and he strikes the creatures harshly and decisively, slamming their skulls and chests into the ground with his hammer. He approaches the portal without a thought, eyes livid and intent on his goal, striking down every stray creature within arm's reach as he goes.

“Thor!” Loki cries as his brother moves farther from him.

Thor ignores him. He needs to demolish these creatures.

“ _Thor!_ Don't go through the portal! You _can't_ go through the portal!”

A creature lunges at him from dark shadows, and manages to avoid Mjolnir. Thor reaches for its throat and rips its head to the other side, but another one sends a blow from its weapon into his back. Gasping from the pain, Thor whirls around smacking into its ribs. He summons a wave of lightning, preparing to clear his path through the portal.

“ _No!_ Thor, _stop!_ ” Loki shouts. “We're not ready!”

Thor glances to his brother and sees him fending off about ten of the Chitauri with his dagger gripped in a white-knuckled hand. A pile of corpses rests around him, ensuring that he will have no difficulty defending himself. Loki sounds terrified of what Thor’s about to do, but that means little because Loki is irrationally afraid of these creatures. Thor's eyes turn again to the portal and he maximizes the energy of Mjolnir.

“Y-You can't go in there without me!” Loki tries.

Thor unleashes the lightning at the same time as the portal collapses.

The lightning strikes the walls of the cave instead, and its power forges a hole straight into the rock and moss. A deep rumble reverberates through the cave. Thor has just enough time to meet Loki’s gaze before the ceiling groans.

Rocks fall, and dust contaminates the air. Thor swings his arms above his head and gasps for breath, coughing and choking on clouds of dirt. “Loki!” There's no answer he can hear. He moves away from the debris and trips as a large boulder lands directly in front of him sending him to the floor.

Thor covers his head, Mjolnir lying useless beside him, and waits for the rockslide to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being me, I'm considering adding more, ahem, triggers. But I know that might turn people away, so I'm thinking about indulging myself here on Ao3 but posting a different version that is more family-friendly-ish on ff.net or something. What do you guys think? Do you have any definite-no's on the four big Archive Warnings?
> 
> I forgot to say this last chapter but my Tumblr is loxxxlay if you ever want to chat. <3
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Sean (g-rox-theninja on Tumblr) for beta-ing this chapter! :) Very helpfull :D
> 
> I've decided from popular demand not to add any more triggers than what I've already warned for, so yay, you all can keep reading. XD Sorry that this chapter took forever. I had life things going on. But I feel much more energized and enthusiastic about it now. So hopefully it will go faster now. (By faster, I actually mean less slow--not actually fast.)
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and supporting me! All of your comments are so important to me!
> 
> (Also trigger warning for suicidal thoughts/torture references in this chapter.)

_It’s only through scrying that Loki can see Thor, and what he sees does not comfort him._

_Sun-kissed knuckles rub his eyes raw. Golden hair hangs in dirtied pale strands. An unseeing gaze stares at every flaw along an unfurnished wall—for hours and hours. It’s those times when he misses his brother most, those times when he longs to tell Thor the truth._

_Before the urge can ever come to fruition, his brother’s dearest Jane wanders into the room with a fresh meal, a cup of water, or simply an empty hand to offer. Loki watches her mouth move in muted sounds because he doesn’t have the stomach to listen to her words._

_And yet long into the next night, he will wonder._

_Does she provide Thor hope?_

_Does she ask him to move forward?_

_Does she tell him how Loki would hate to see him like this? Because that’s true._

_Or does she simply tell him that she loves him?_

_Too stubborn to allow her voice into his spell, he strains instead to read the unforgivable vowels on her lips. And it’s in those moments that he feels most justified, most vindicated, in his plans. Because if Thor truly loved him the way Loki loved him, then it would be Loki, not Jane, sitting there, his mouth forming three perfect words._

III.

When the dust finally settles, Thor hastens into motion, pushing boulders aside and climbing to his feet.

Mjolnir flies into his hand, and he strides quickly toward where he last saw Loki. Memories surface, of Loki’s desperate gaze as he fought, surrounded by at least ten enemies. Thor swallows and keeps moving.

It’s much darker than before, so he bolsters Mjolnir’s energy. Brief flashes of electricity illuminate the cave. The ceiling has slanted haphazardly against the side of the wall Thor hit with the lightning. In some places, it’s low enough that he must crouch. Behind him, a wall of rock blocks the way out, but those concerns do not haunt him nearly as much as the fear of finding his brother dead.

As he goes, he sees corpses of the creatures. Some, however, are still alive and breathing shallowly, their chests crushed by several pounds of stone. Still shaken with the rage, Thor only kills the ones with a chance to survive.

Eventually his eyes fall upon the pale silhouette of his brother’s face. One of the creatures lies lifeless on top of him, black blood oozing out of knife wounds in its chest. Thor storms forward and rips the corpse away. He kneels next to his brother. Once again, the glamour has faded, and knowing Loki is more than capable of maintaining illusions even in sleep, Thor fears the worst.

“Loki,” he murmurs and touches the porcelain, cold skin at his neck. A pulse meets his fingertips, and Thor breathes a sigh of relief. Setting down Mjolnir, Thor takes Loki by the shoulders and tugs him gently away from the mound of rock and the remains of the Chitauri.

At the movement, Loki groans, shifting.

“Loki?”

Loki’s eye snaps open, and he tenses with a knife still clasped firmly in his hands. A lifetime of training allows Thor to catch Loki’s wrist as it shoots towards his chest. Then Loki writhes in his grip, eye far away from the cave, from Asgard.

“Shh,” Thor says. He pins Loki’s arms to his side in a tight embrace, even as Loki growls frantically with protests to let go. As soon as Thor wrestles the knife safely away, he loosens his grip. “Loki, you’re alright. It’s just me.”

The thrashing pauses. “Thor?”

“Yes.”

A heavy exhale shudders Loki’s chest. His head shifts from its cradle in Thor’s hands, and at once, Thor feels warm liquid brush his fingertips. Unmistakably blood.

“What happened?” Loki asks.

Frowning, Thor scopes the injury further, eliciting a sharp gasp from Loki’s mouth. His little brother lurches forward and runs a hand through his raven locks protectively. He turns, his green eye piercing Thor’s. Dull light from Mjolnir shines enough for Thor to see that it is unnaturally dilated and filmy.

Concern fills his chest.

“ _What happened?_ ” Loki asks again.

“Do you not remember? Your head is bleeding.”

Loki’s eye narrows. “I remember perfectly. Howyou abandonedme to countless foes in the middle of battle. How you chose vengeance over caution, how you ignored my advice. Now tell me, did the portal close or not?”

He swallows back guilt. “Yes, the portal’s closed. They closed it.” Thor pauses, hesitant to admit how he caused the rockslide. “I hit the wall,” he says after a moment. “We’re blocked in, I’m sorry.”

Shrugging, Loki pushes himself onto one of his knees. “No use apologizing now. We’re both still alive, aren’t we? And _they_ are gone, for now.”

Images of Loki’s unusual bloodlust rise in Thor’s mind. He longs to reach out and put a comforting hand on Loki’s neck, but he knows the gesture will only upset his brother. Even the most innocent touch seems to do so now.

Thor lifts Mjolnir into his hand and summons its power to shed brighter flickers of light through the cave. A second look confirms all nearby Chitauri to be dead. Thor climbs to his feet. “How did they even find us?”

At his side, Loki braces himself against the cave wall as he stands, swaying. His eye flickers towards Thor and then quickly away without answering.

It’s suspicious enough for Thor to give him another look. “Did you lead them here?” he asks, hardly managing to mask the rough accusation in his voice.

Loki glares—or rather, he means to. His gaze is so terribly weary that it doesn’t quite meet the necessary sharpness for a glare. “The fork in the cave, a little ways back,” he says, instead of answering. “There should be a smaller path that way leading to an exit if I remember correctly. If we leave now, we should be out before dusk.”

Thor nods. “And the Norn? We should ensure her safety on the way.”

“There’s no need,” Loki says. His hand rises to the back of his head and rubs it carefully. “She knows pathways through the realms, same as I, and she has adequately warded her home. Besides, there’s no time.” Loki’s eyes wander to the Chitauri corpses on the ground. “They know where we are. They will be back.”

“ _How_ did they know where we are?” Thor steps forward towards Loki with Mjolnir tight in his fist. He knows without a shadow of a doubt that Loki is still hiding something. Just as he knows that if he presses the issue enough, he may get an answer out of his brother. “Loki, how did they find us?” he asks more gently.

Loki stares at him for a long moment. Then he turns to head deeper into the cave. “We don’t have time for—” As he speaks, his foot catches on a stray rock and he stumbles forward, landing harshly on all fours. The motion visibly jars his head. Thor rushes forward.

Loki’s gaze has faded into the distance. His hand rises to run through his hair and then falls to the side.

Concerned, Thor kneels and presses his palm to his brother’s back. “Loki?”

Loki jolts and looks at Thor. “Sorry, what?”

“I asked you—how did they know we were here?”

“I don’t know.” It sounds distracted, as though Loki didn’t really hear the question. His green eye blinks several times, and suddenly he turns his head away from Mjolnir’s steady flashes of light. His arms rise to block the dull beams. “What happened?” Loki asks. “Did the portal close?”

Thor’s throat runs dry.                                                                      

-

“I _swear_ I’m fine.”

Again, Thor must wrestle him down until he stops squirming to get a better look at the injury. Loki won’t admit to any pain, but Thor can tell through touching tender places on his head when Loki winces.

His brother’s jaw clenches from the close contact, as if bracing, when Thor’s hand approaches his head, and his breathing quickens more and more as Thor holds him down. Thor can feel the tension in Loki’s body, and he hates that he is its cause.

“ _Thor_ ,” Loki hisses, “I’m _fine_.”

Thor ignores him and holds up his hand. “How is your vision? Can you count my fingers?”

“ _Yes_.” When Thor does not lower his hand, Loki’s glare darkens. “You’re holding two. Satisfied?”

He feels nowhere near satisfied. The lapse in Loki’s memory still haunts him. Thor holds his hammer closer to Loki’s face and watches as Loki’s pupil stays wide, not contracting at all. Loki’s gaze is weak and dazed, and he seems to have trouble focusing on Thor’s movements. It has every sign of a concussion. While he knows proper rest can delay serious symptoms long enough for the healers of Asgard to tend to the injury, he also knows they still have to hike farther into the cave in order to escape.

Sighing, Thor lets Loki go. “Try to stand.”

Rolling his eyes, Loki pushes himself to his feet, once again bracing himself against the wall. One step forward sends him slipping towards the ground, and Thor must lunge forward to keep him upright.

“Let go of me,” Loki says, low.

He pushes Thor away and regains his footing long enough to take him several paces along the wall. Watching, Thor notes the way he catches himself from stumbling and how he sways when he stands still. Thor’s hands run through his hair—Loki needs rest but he also needs the palace healers.

“Why don’t you sit down for a moment?” Thor finally says. If he can scout ahead while Loki rests, then he can navigate the path more easily the second time.

Loki whirls around to glare at him. “Don’t you understand what is happening? Yes, they closed the portal, but if we stay here anylonger, they will regroup and send something bigger. Something infinitely more dangerous. Maybe something that can even defeat _you_. We’re wasting enough time as it is.”

Thor clenches his fists.  “They are Chitauri! Weak creatures who know nothing of our strength. You need rest!”

“You think it matters how weak they are?” Loki snarls. “You think it matters when you’re tired and hurt and it’s dark and there’s thousands of them coming at you without end?” His laugh wheezes harshly from his chest, sending chills down Thor’s arms. “They will destroy us if we stay here. We need to get out.”

Thor stares him down. There’s logic to Loki’s words, but Thor’s fears are too paralyzing for logic. This is a third chance to protect his brother—a third chance, and he’s already failing. If he makes the wrong choice now, if Loki were to . . . Thor swallows and clenches his hand around Mjolnir.

“Thor,” Loki says, softly. “Please. I need to get out of here. I can’t stand to look at them.” He gestures wildly towards the Chitauri corpses. “You’re worried, I understand—but right now there’s more important things to worry about than my . . .” He pauses to take a shaky breath and leans back against the cave wall with his eyes closed. “We need—we need to get moving.”

Taking a heavy breath, Thor finally moves forward and holds out his arm. “Fine, but you lean on me when you walk. I don’t want you falling again.”

“I’m fine,” Loki says. But he takes Thor’s arm anyway and relies more heavily on the support than Thor thinks he intends.

Without a word, Thor takes one experimental step forward. When Loki reciprocates without stumbling, Thor makes his way deeper into the cave, towards the fork. He tests his pace with Loki’s, speeding when Loki tugs impatiently at his arm and slowing when Loki stumbles over pebbles and stray rocks.

The energy Thor sends through Mjolnir is enough to flicker light upon their direction, but in its nature it’s not enough for Thor to be properly assured of safety. Between the flashes, they could stumble down a cleft, run across some prowling beast, or mistakenly step into depthless water. He considers asking Loki for his light source, but the memory of Loki’s pale, sweating face every time he casted hasn’t left Thor’s mind.

As a result, they move slowly, slower than Thor would like. And if he had to guess from Loki’s darting gaze and tense grip, then he would say Loki would like to move more quickly as well.

When they reach the fork, Loki points to the right. “That way. There should be a smaller pathway out, a little further back.”

“I know.”

Loki turns to squint at him.

“You told me a few minutes ago,” Thor explains.

It seems to give Loki pause. His gaze drifts into something thoughtful, something Thor hasn’t seen in a long time. Thor trudges up the slope, pressing Loki closer. This is uncharted territory now, and Thor strains to feed Mjolnir more energy in vain hopes of lighting the passage more brightly.

Then a ball of green light floats from Loki’s hand and shines ahead of them. Loki’s breath catches, and Thor turns to him, expression hardening. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

A dim smile quirks the corners of Loki’s lips.

“What?”

“It’s like that hunt for the bilgesnipe all over again, isn’t it? You just won’t leave me alone.”

Thor stiffens. He remembers that fateful hunt. A faint protectiveness stirs inside of his chest—he does not want it twisted and tainted as everything else that has been poisoned by Loki’s words. He keeps his gaze focused straight ahead without answering.

Still, Loki’s eye lingers on him. “We’re adults now, Thor. There’s no need to pester me. I know my limits.”

“You didn’t take care of yourself then, and you still don’t care for yourself now,” Thor says simply.

Smile growing, Loki leans into his side as he steps over a loose boulder. “Is that all you remember? My one mistake? That figures.” He laughs softly.

 “What else is there?” It’s a lie. The words taste foul in his throat.

“You don’t recall the quiet night we were trapped in there alone—how we talked and talked?”

He remembers more than that. The touch of skin upon skin, the glowing ecstasy and adrenaline building in his body. Even now, the thought makes him yearn deeply for what is no more. That Loki was different—that Loki, Thor sincerely believed to be in love. Affectionate and kind. Intelligent and fiercely devoted.

That Loki no longer exists.

Thor’s protectiveness of the past strengthens. The turn of this conversation is surprising, and he isn’t sure he wants to know what Loki is up to, he isn’t sure he wants to know why Loki is bringing it up. Desperate to drop the subject, Thor stops. “You’re stumbling. Rest for a moment.”

Surprisingly Loki does without complaint. He leans against the wall and watches Thor with one bright, fierce eye. The intensity of his gaze seems strange compared to the dazed, weary look moments before. “You regret it, don’t you?”

“No,” Thor says and turns away.

“You don’t seem to enjoy discussing it.”

“I don’t enjoy discussing it with _you_.” Thor puts a hand against his mouth after hearing the cruel resentment simmering in his own tone. His arm shakes. These thoughts—they beg to be put into words. “You’re not him,” he says quietly, honestly. “Not anymore. You’re a stranger now, and I don’t know you.”

For a long moment, Loki says nothing.

And just from that, Thor knows that Loki is affected. Thor has opened his heart, and Loki is not mocking him, not throwing his words back in his face. It’s sincere—this moment. And Thor thinks if he looks at his brother now, he wouldn’t be surprised to see tears glistening in Loki’s eye.

When Loki does speak, his voice unsurprisingly comes out clear. “Do you want to know how they burned me?”

Thor heaves a breath and turns. Even now, the scarred skin surrounding Loki’s eye is as harsh as ever under the orb of light.

He wants to focus on getting out of the cave—but more than anything, he wants to catalog everything. From the faded bruises and rashes on his brother’s wrists to the sickening runes inscribed upon his brother’s back. He wants to total everything and repay the wounds in full.

Hardened with resolve, Thor watches Loki. “It must have been more than fire to cause such a mark.”

Loki hums in agreement. “They tried everything to break my wards,” he says. “Threatening me, drugging me—beating me. I willingly told them what they wanted to know. The pathways through the realms, the dangers.”

He smiles at Thor, and Thor cringes with apprehension.

“Then,” Loki continues, “they took me by my arms and pressed my face against the Tesseract itself.”

Overcome, Thor closes his eyes and takes a moment to breathe. He can’t imagine what sort of pain that would cause.

“Each time, I would wake with another ward unraveled. Another shred of my magic twisted and bound to that cube.” Loki pauses to take a light breath. “Glamours, illusions, other simple spells—they’re too small to make a difference. But this—” His gaze drifts towards his light source. “—or anything else. They can track me with it.”

“So you knew they would find us when you brought us here,” Thor says.

“I only suspected. Now I know.”

Thor’s shoulders rise and fall with the weight of that knowledge. His thoughts wind back to that awful confession, and he trembles with rage imagining it. “Could you not have just . . . released the wards? Before they . . .” He swallows, already knowing the answer.

“Oh yes.” Softly, Loki chuckles. “They offered me mercy. Several times. My resistance was pointless—we all knew that. But I still held on to every last ward with all of my strength.”

“Why?” The word bursts from Thor’s throat like a plea. He knows how Loki hates the realms, and he knows Loki once sided with the Chitauri. Why would he side against them now, even after enduring so much pain? “Why would you—why would you put yourself through that?”

Loki’s eye turns to him, and he smiles. “Have a guess, Brother,” he says gently. “It must be obvious by now.”

It’s not. Thor’s tongue burns with questions, but he cannot find his voice.

“Come on,” Loki says after Thor says nothing. “They know we’re here. We have to keep moving.”

-

By the time they reach the way out, Loki’s feet are dragging and his tongue lulls when he speaks. His hand sways weakly as he points towards the narrow tunnel barely big enough to allow Thor passage, let alone both of them side by side. They’ll have to crawl through one by one.

Thor takes a breath and sits Loki down at the entrance to the tunnel. “Move your light closer to your face,” he says, kneeling in front of his brother.

Without arguing, Loki closes his eye, breath pausing, and slowly the orb of light comes to rest beside their heads.

“Look at me. Let me see.”

When Loki does, his pupil takes far too long to adjust under the bright light. Thor sighs and holds up three fingers. “Can you see this?”

Eye closing, Loki heaves a slow breath that collapses his shoulders. “There’s . . . nothing to . . .”

Thor leans closer to hear better. “What?”

“I’m fine, Thor.” Loki says under his breath and gestures weakly towards the tunnel. “Go on. I’ll follow . . . behind you.”

But Loki’s expression—it’s the same as it was, back on Svartalfheim when a gaping hole sunk through his chest, when Thor was sure he was dying. Calm. Accepting. He thinks of Loki’s frantic eyes as he hung from Gungnir over the depthless void of the universe. Thor wonders if this calmness is just an act. His hands rise to clutch Loki’s shoulders.

“I’d rather you go first,” Thor says.

Nothing but the trickle of water answers him for a moment. Then Loki licks his lips. “It’s been years. I don’t know what’s in there . . . You go first, I’ll be behind you.”

“You’re lying.” Thor pauses, his throat swelling with a dull ache. “Loki—tell me how many fingers I’m holding up.”

Loki’s eyelid flickers, but instead of Thor’s hand, he looks straight into his brother’s eyes with an affection Thor hasn’t seen in so, so long. Thor’s heart pounds because it could mean anything—the concussion, the nostalgia, a trick of the light. Because one thing is true—his brother from the past is no more.

“What will you do . . . if I can’t?” Loki says under his breath. “What’s the use in knowing? There’s nothing to . . . to be done . . . Just go.”

“Of course there’s something,” Thor growls. “Once we’re out of here, we will go to Asgard.”

Loki’s expression closes off.

“We will go,” Thor says again, louder. “And Eir will tend to your head and anything else that she can, and you will be well again.”

“I _am_ well. I’m fine right here. I’m fine with this.”

“You’re sick. You’re not thinking right. I won’t let you—”

“Thor. Listen.” Loki leans back and stares at the ceiling, his face shining in the light. “I’m their tool. Even now, the Chitauri are using me. I cast, and they know where to find the _only_ threat that the Nine Realms poses them. My magic is bound. I become weaker every time I use it. Don’t you see? I’m useless to you at best . . . You need to let me go.”

Half with rage and half with agony, Thor’s chest rises and falls. He fixes Loki with a hard glare and steadily shakes his head.

“I’m fine, Thor.” Loki gives a small smile. “This is okay. I want this. I’m fine.”

Fists trembling, Thor rears his head back. “How many times must you be hurt before you understand _you’re not fine!_ ”

Silent, Loki watches him.

“You were taken and tortured for _seven days_ ,” Thor gasps. His grip tightens on Loki, almost jerking with how badly his hands shake. “Most of the time, you pretend it never happened, and when you do speak of it, you act as if it means nothing. And you neglect yourself! When was the last time you slept? Or ate? Gods, I could see your spine through your skin last night, and that is a wound that can’t have happened only over a week. You _never_ take _care_ of yourself, and now . . . _now_ you’re insisting . . .”

Thor chokes on his words and turns his head away. The trembling in his fists moves to his shoulders and before long, he clenches his eyes shut to hold back tears. It seems no matter how many times Loki dies and comes back, no matter how many times he goes through the fear of losing—it means nothing. It opens a wound in his heart, fresher and larger, every single time.

Through his fear, he feels a cool hand carefully resting on his shoulder near his neck. “Thor—”

“No. No, you shut up,” Thor growls, but his voice catches and breaks. “Shut up,” he says again, quieter. When he opens his eyes, he sees Loki’s body trembling with his, and Thor’s sternness softens into something more like grief. “We have to go to Asgard.”

Loki’s lips thin.

“We must, Loki,” Thor says. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. You’ve shown me your proof, and I do believe you. But you need proper medical attention. You need to _live_. Do you not understand that?”

The light of the orb reflects in the emerald iris of his brother’s dazed eye. Shadows flicker across his gaunt skin. For a long time, the silence stretches between them. Loki’s gaze turns to the tunnel, and he watches it, entranced. “Odin is awake,” he says finally. “If we go there . . . you will not be king.”

Just barely, Thor can see Loki’s jaw clenching. “Loki, I swear to you—if you walk through those gates with me, then you will walk out. I promise.”

Already Loki is shaking his head, jaw tense and hands trembling.

“Loki—you came to mefor help.” Thor pulls him closer and locks their gazes. “Not the All-Father, not Sif or the Warriors Three. Not any other friends you may have made. You came to _me_. You said you trusted me—”

“To save the Tesseract. Not me—”

“That is why I am asking this of you.” Wearily Thor lifts his hands and cups them around Loki’s face. “You tried everything you could to defeat your foe. Now it’s my turn. Trust me when I say I _need_ my brother with the full extent of his intelligence restored. Without him, I will fail. Please, Loki.” Thor leans forward and presses their foreheads together. “Please return him to me.”

Tears shine in Loki’s eye. After a long moment, he takes Thor’s hands and pushes them away, head brushing against Thor’s as he shakes it, hesitantly.

“That night in the cave,” Thor says. “It meant everything to me. And stranger or no—I still love you, even now.”

A breath shudders through Loki’s frame. He sits in silence for several more seconds, air shooting in through his nose and out through his mouth. Leaning back, Thor can see Loki’s hands shaking wildly, and Thor grits his teeth together, waiting for him to make the decision.

“Okay.” Loki nods finally. “Okay. But you do need to go first. If something is waiting for us out there, I . . . I won’t be able to handle it.”

Relieved, Thor pulls his brother into a strong embrace, holding tighter and tighter as Loki resists less and less. “Thank you,” Thor whispers into Loki’s ear, and then he lets go.

He clips his hammer to his belt and slips into the tunnel on all fours. The tight space still forces him to crouch while he crawls, but the sound of Loki joining behind him is enough reassurance to push forward.

The light source disappears as they move further into the tunnel. Thor glances back at his brother in question.

“They know we’re in the cave,” Loki says. “I don’t want them to know we’re getting out.” But judging from the beads of sweat rolling down his forehead, the foamy look in his eye, Thor thinks that can’t be the only reason.

It doesn’t take long to feel a chilly touch of air, to see the light of day just up ahead. Thor quickens his pace. As far as he can see, there are no Chitauri waiting for them outside of the cave, no threat at all. Finally, a bit of luck. He glances back at Loki to tell him how close they are, and right then, he sees Loki’s head hit the jagged wall of the tunnel, hard.

A sharp hiss follows the thud, and Loki goes still, the only sign of life in his harsh breathing.

Thor aches to turn around, to drag his brother the final few feet. But there’s no way. The space is too tight to maneuver, and even if he could, it would be nearly impossible to drag Loki backwards and uphill.

“Loki!” Thor calls instead, helplessly. “Loki . . . Are you okay?”

Loki’s eyelid flickers. He’s still conscious at least. “Where’re we?” he says, tongue drawling to form the words. “Thor?”

“We’re getting out of the cave.” Thor takes in a strained breath. “You just bumped your head. Can you still move? We’re very close.”

Loki shifts his face into his arms. His shoulders rise and fall with harsh sobs, and it’s been ages since Thor has remembered seeing him so afraid. “Am I dying?” Loki asks.

“No,” Thor says, faintly shocked. “Of course not. We just need to get out so we can get you to Asgard.”

A pause. “Mother’ll be so angry we snuck out.”

Thor nearly chokes on his heart, the way it clogs up his throat. An image of Frigga, scolding the two of them, when they finally got back to Asgard all of those centuries ago. Dirt-stained clothes and scraped knees and their heartfelt secret were the only important worries back then. Thor misses those days almost as much as he misses his mother.

“She’ll forgive us,” Thor lies, because how can he remind Loki that their mother is dead?

Loki gasps into his arm. “My head hurts.”

Thor closes his eyes and clenches his fists around the rocks beneath him. He wasn’t built for battles like this. Battles strung with words, battles to persuade another to keep going. On the battlefield, he knows how to fight. He knows how to lead. But when it’s down to his little brother, who has always been so different—Thor is always at a loss.

He exhales heavily and cranes his neck to look at Loki. “I know,” he says, praying this is enough. “Come on. We’re almost out.”

After a long moment, Loki lifts his head. Tear tracks trail down his cheeks, but he wipes them away stubbornly—the action so reminiscent of when they were young—and drags himself forward. Thor goes, as well, checking behind him every few seconds to ensure that Loki is still conscious and still behind him.

When they reach the top and Thor drags himself out, he basks in the warm light of setting sun that feels strongly of relief. “We made it,” he says softly.

There’s no answer.

When Thor looks back, Loki’s eyes are closed and his body limp.

“Damn it!” Thor leans into the tunnel and grabs ahold of Loki’s elbows, doing his best to tug him past stray rocks and rough stone with barely enough purchase to make any progress. His heart pounds with adrenaline.

Loki cannot die—he cannot die, or this will be it, this will be the end. It’s been worse every time, and Thor cannot heal from a third time.

“Please,” Thor breathes and summons the entirety of his strength to pull them both out of the tunnel and into the day. Without pause, Thor checks for a pulse. It’s there, but weak. They don’t have long to get to Asgard.

Thor pulls Loki over his shoulder and stands. His brother is feather-light compared to what he should weigh, and it just reminds Thor even more that his little brother is sick and has been for some time. Maybe even since they were children.

He presses a soft kiss against his little brother’s shoulder. “Hold on for me.”

Then Thor grabs Mjolnir from his belt and takes to the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I say I edited, I was actually extremely lazy regarding a few things, so.. XD I hope it's still at least enjoyable, even if it doesn't meet up to prior chapters' quality.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, I would like to thank @foudroye on Tumblr (fuckener on ao3, go read her zombie fic right now oh my god) because without her insight & ideas & enthusiasm, this chapter would’ve flunked. I cannot thank you enough for that help. <3
> 
> Secondly, I would like to say that I have assured many of you whether or not there will be major character death in this fic, and that assurance will stand. That being said, I do still drop a bomb in this chapter. Be prepared. XD

_ He tells her the truth under the most controlled circumstances. His spells ensure that she cannot leave the room nor call out for the guards, but he won’t kill her. Of course he won’t—why would anyone kill an invaluable asset? _

_ “Where,” she says, low, “is the King?” _

_ “I must admit I am confused—I am your King.” _

_ “Over my dead body,” she growls. Her eyes dart over to the doors that are already sealed shut. Her calloused knuckles whiten as she tightens her grip on her weapon. “If I live through this, I will tell him.” There’s no mistaking whom she means. “I will get away from here, I will find him, and he will kill you.”  _

_ “You make a very convincing argument for me to leave you alive,” Loki says in good humor. He clasps his hands behind his back and paces over to the only window in the room. From there, he can see Heimdall at his post, unaware of the gaping illusion hiding beneath his all-seeing eyes. Loki smiles. “I don’t want to kill you, Sif. I want you to help me.” _

_ “Why in the Nine Realms do you think I would help you?”  _

_ Loki faces her, eyebrow raised in his trademark picture of innocence. “Why? Because there is someone in the Nine Realms who hates Asgard more than I.” _

IV.

“I cannot keep this from your father,” is the first thing Eir says upon seeing Loki’s unconscious form hanging over Thor’s shoulder.

Thor takes a moment to catch his breath.  The events of the day have exhausted him, both mentally and physically, and yet there is still so much more to come. He’s grateful that it is Eir who has spotted him outside on the balcony, and not another healer—Eir and he have a long history over the many years of his childhood that not many healers can match. Even more so, he trusts her deeply.

Shifting his brother into a steadier hold, Thor steps forward from the railing and approaches Eir so that they may speak more softly. 

“Lady Eir,” he says as he bows his head respectfully. “I understand you cannot keep silent on this matter, and I will not ask you to commit treason. All I ask is that you tend to my brother’s wounds before you inform my father.” 

Eir’s eyes squint, and Thor is sure she will refuse him. Then surprisingly, she sighs, her head falling back wearily. “As far as I see it, you will be King one day. I can hardly refuse your request.” She glances at Loki one last time before holding open the glass door to the healing rooms. “Come here. Move quickly and quietly, and don’t draw attention to yourself. My people may feel differently about your authority.”

Relieved, Thor nods. He rushes forward through the open door and follows Eir through the quiet corridors, passing room by room of healing. At small glances, he catches sight of sterile golden sheets folded over unoccupied beds. Considering what happened a week ago, it is odd for Asgard’s healing rooms to be so empty. Thor would have thought more would be injured in the attack.

In one room, however, he sees a girl lying on her back, pale as if in death. As the only patient he has seen, she peaks his interest.

“That one will be fine,” says Eir upon noticing his attention. “We helped her into a deep sleep until her injuries could fully heal. Her ailment is no longer in the body, but in the mind.”

“Will you wake her soon?” Thor asks.

“Today, we had planned.”

“How was she injured?” he asks, after a moment.

Eir throws a harsh look at his brother and silently leads them into the adjacent room, farthest away from the entrance. “Lie him down on the bed,” she says.

Swallowing, Thor steps forward. Eir pulls the covers away so that Thor may set his brother down. Loki’s face glows even whiter under the bright light. Beads of sweat have collected on his forehead, matting his hair to his skin. Thor glances to Eir as she sees the burn on his face. She frowns disapprovingly but doesn’t ask.

“He hit his head. Concussion,” Thor says vaguely, not in any hurry to describe the tiresome events that brought them here in detail.

Leaning forward, Eir summons a light source to her fingertip and reaches to hold open Loki’s eyelids. 

Again Thor sees one alarmingly enlarged pupil. He heaves a breath. “Can you help him?”

“I’ve seen worse,” she says. Her hand glows gold as she places it to Loki’s forehead, and her eyes close in a steady concentration. Red sparks fly from the contact between them. Gradually, Loki’s face eases into something less strained, something more like sleep.

Thor’s shoulders relax as the pressing fear fades away. Loki will be fine. Physically if nothing else. Once Eir opens her eyes and removes her hand, Thor gives her a heartfelt look. “Thank you.”

Shaking her head with a huff, Eir turns towards cabinets in the room, gathering bandages and salves. Thor knows that no amount of medicine will heal many of the wounds Loki is suffering, but he doesn’t say that. It’s worth a true healer’s attempt, and it will give Thor time to think—before he has to face his father.

Eir disregards Thor’s presence while she works on spreading the salves and applying the bandages. It’s several minutes before she even speaks. “How did you find him?” she asks. The apathy in her voice sounds somewhat forced.

“He found me,” Thor explains. “Yesterday. We were on our way here to . . . see what was going on.”

“So he didn’t tell you.”

Thor frowns. “He told me. But his knowledge of what happened on Asgard didn’t include the past week.”

That gives Eir pause. As if surprised, she goes quiet again while she tapes bandages to Loki’s head, covering the terrible burn.

Thoughts weigh heavy on Thor’s tongue as well. He thinks of all the empty rooms, save the one, he thinks of how Loki implied that others were with him in the weapons’ vault, how some were taken captive with him and some were left behind. He wonders to himself—does he even want to know?

Thor shakes himself of the hesitation. Of course he does. He came here for answers, and Eir is one of the most trustworthy sources of information he knows. “I must ask,” he says after a great deal of working himself up to it. “The attack—were there any . . . survivors?”

Grimly Eir finishes setting the bandages and leans back with a long sigh. “You saw the only survivor a few moments ago. The last of the others died this morning.”

Thor sits still as he takes in this information. “Who were the others?”

“Guards mostly,” Eir says. “Some sorcerers, but many of those were taken with your brother. The one who died this morning was one of His Majesty’s personal guards. There was no chance of recovery, so we helped him along to Valhalla.”

Wincing, Thor nods. “And the girl who survived? Who is she?”

“A sorcerer.” Eir rests her chin in a cupped hand, gaze wandering over to the windows overlooking the city. “Her injuries were the least severe out of everyone left behind. We think that it is her youth in the field of sorcery that saved her. She was the least powerful to have entered the weapons’ vault, the smallest threat.”

“So she is the only one besides my brother who can tell us what happened in there,” Thor says.

Eir’s sharp gaze locks so intensely with his that Thor almost must look away. “She is young. Very young.” Breaking her stare, Eir shakes her head. “We tried to wake her when her injuries showed improvement, but her mind—she’s been traumatized. It’s been hard to get a complete thought out of her. Looking at it that way, you probably know more about what happened than we do.”

Just then, Loki mumbles something indecipherable. His eyelid flickers open for a moment.

“Loki?” Thor leans closer to hear, his heart fluttering with relief. “Are you awake?”

“Sigyn,” Loki says quietly. He clears his throat. “You mean Sigyn.”

Confused, Thor looks to Eir, whose lips stiffen and shut without answer.

“Is she alive?” Loki asks.

When Eir still says nothing, Loki pushes himself up onto his arms and shoves aside the bed sheets. He means to get up. Thor grabs Loki by the shoulder to nudge him back down, but Loki thrashes against him. “Take it easy,” Thor says, his hard grip pressing bruises into Loki’s arms. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Lip curling back, Loki gives one final shove. “Is she  _ alive _ ?” he growls.

“Yes.” 

Both brothers turn to Eir. Her expression is hard and merciless as she surveys Loki sitting still on the bed. She folds her arms, and her chin lifts with confident authority.

“She was the  _ only _ survivor. A child, locked in the weapons’ vault and tortured by beasts  _ you  _ let in.”

Though his eye betrays guilt, Loki clenches his jaw. “Sigyn is not a child—”

“Yes.” Glare darkening, Eir stares Loki down. “Not a child any longer. Not after what she’s suffered. She had only recently graduated from elementary studies; she could barely even cast a glamour for Norn’s sake. And you thought it would be responsible to put her in what you  _ knew  _ would be an active warzone—”

“I did not.” Pride dropping, Loki glances at Thor in apology. The gesture seems entirely sincere. Then Loki shifts his gaze to the bed. His fists wrinkle the sheets. “I needed a handful of sorcerers to aid me in the weapons’ vault. She was one of the few who knew who I was, and she wanted to help. I told her she couldn’t. She snuck in anyway. By the time I realized she was there, it was—” He cuts himself off with a deliberate breath. “I did not mean for her to be there.”

Loki’s gaze meets Thor’s again, and Thor nods gently. He believes Loki. “She’s in the next room,” Thor says. “I saw her. She’s asleep but recovered.”

Closing his eye, Loki sighs slowly. “May I see her?”

“No,” Eir says sharply. “You’ve done enough harm.”

Desperate, Loki shifts to face his brother directly. “Thor, please, I must speak with her. During the—” His eye alights with haunting pain, and his lips thin as he speaks. “During the—the attack, they . . . I was unconscious for most of it, and I don’t remember specifics of spells that were used.” He pauses as if searching for the right words. “Do you remember what the Norn told us?”

Thor watches his brother. He remembers her speaking of the possibility of hopelessness, the discussion of time—how odd Loki had seemed at the time, how sad. “I remember,” he says vaguely, unsure which part Loki is referring to.

“I may have a role to play,” Loki says, “in case we . . .” His eye falls. “Just in case.” He’s quiet for a while, simply staring at the floor, gaze off in the distance. Then he clears his throat. “Unbinding my magic could prove not only useful but very necessary in the end. I need to know what spells they used while I was unconscious. It could be vital.”

Thor stares hard at his brother, searching for any familiar clue of a lie. Nothing in Loki’s face even twitches with discomfort. Nothing in his gaze hints insincerity. Satisfied, he shifts to address Eir. “Is there any way you will allow this?”

“No.”

“Thor—”

Thor holds up a hand to cut Loki off. “Eir, you have known me since I was a child, and you know that I would never ask you to reconsider unless it was very important. When the Tesseract was stolen, certain events came into play that are a threat to the Nine Realms. If Sigyn remembers even a little, then it may make the difference between our lives and deaths.”

“You don’t know that your brother is telling the truth,” Eir says. “You rely on the word of a liar.”

Thor runs a hand through his hair. All he wants is to lie down and rest after everything that has happened today, but it’s only a matter of time before Eir decides she cannot keep this from his father any longer.

“Lady Eir,” Loki says after a moment. “You have good reason to hate me, and I don’t blame you. I am many things—a liar, a murderer, a monster . . .” He pauses to push himself up a bit more, letting the sheets fall away revealing his bruised and battered body, the flaws in his armor. Leaning forward, Loki pulls fraying leather down his back to show Eir the runes. “Right now, I am also powerless. There is nothing I could possibly do to harm Sigyn with my brother near. Please let us speak to her.”

As she scans the runes, Eir’s frown deepens. A worried line creases her forehead. “You’re asking for permission to search through a traumatized girl’s most terrifying memories, days after the fact. That is harm enough.”

“I know,” Loki breathes, his fist on the sheet trembling. “If anyone can know, I can know. I was there with her. I suffered the same pain.” Glistening, his eye darts to Thor’s. “Twice,” he confesses to his brother, answering the question Thor has long held in his heart.

Thor swallows through a dry throat and reaches out to grip his brother’s hand. 

Across from them, Eir’s stubborn façade visibly crumbles.

Loki inhales shallowly. “Lady Eir, this is so very important.”

“You both continue to stress this importance,” Eir says, “but I have yet to hear details as to why. Who did you let into Asgard? Who leads the Chitauri? Who is so powerful to use the Tesseract in such a way?”

Gaping silence suddenly fills the room. Without warning, every hair on the back of Thor’s neck stands at attention. He stares at Loki, who has turned deathly pale, whose eyes have lost their light. It looks like he’s falling all over again. Thor holds thoroughly still as if any small sound will steal his brother away from him. 

“Thanos,” Loki says finally. “His name is Thanos.”

Eir’s face whitens at the name. She stands and paces to the other side of the room with her back turned.

“Thanos?” Thor asks hesitantly. The name unexpectedly means little to him. “Thanos, the Mad Titan? That is a storybook villain, a myth.”

“You were led to believe it myth, but no. He is real.” Eir twists to look at Thor, her face as grim as it ever has been. “Centuries before you were born, perhaps even a millennium, he lived. During the great war—he attempted to destroy Asgard once. As he cannot be mortally killed, we banished him to the farthest reaches of the universe hoping that he would never return.”

Thor takes in this information carefully. All the stories, all the myths he learned as a child were true. Thanos—a being far more powerful than Thor could ever have imagined. A being that Loki somehow trusts Thor to defeat.

“He has returned.” Loki’s shoulders tremble. “He has returned, and he has the tools to destroy all of Yggdrassil. My brother and I must stop him, and to do so, I must unbind my magic. I must speak with Sigyn.” Loki stares at Eir. “Please.”

Desperately Thor trains his gaze on Eir. This new sense of fear has filled him with urgency.

Lips tight, Eir stares his brother down. When Loki doesn’t falter, she finally relents. “Fine. But if we do this, it will be done my way. Understood?”

-

After peeking through the door to be sure the area is still empty of any of her assistant healers, Eir leads them into the other room holding Sigyn. Up close, she truly appears to be in a restful sleep. Her chest rises and falls evenly, and her face isn’t as pale as Thor thought it was before.

“You need to wear a glamour,” Eir says to Loki as she goes over to a cabinet and searches through several vials of liquid. “I do not want any more reminders of what happened to her than necessary.”

Loki’s form flashes green until all signs of his injuries are hidden from sight.

After pausing to scrutinize the glamour, Eir’s chin lifts with satisfaction. Then she returns her attention to the cabinet. “If she shows any sign of distress,  _ any  _ sign,” she says sternly, “you stop. You leave her be. You find a healer to calm her before you continue. Do you understand?”

Thor hears the silent aim of Eir’s words at himself, and nods to her. “Are you leaving?”

“After she wakes, I am going to find your father. You have until we return to speak with her.”

Nodding again, Thor gauges Loki’s reaction for any stiffness or resistance. Surprisingly, Loki remains transfixed on Sigyn’s face, as if caught in a dream. Whatever happened in the weapons’ vault, whatever caused—Thor’s hands clench at his sides. Thanos will pay. 

“Thank you, Lady Eir,” he says. “I will not forget this.”

Wordlessly, Eir pulls a vial of liquid from the shelves. She approaches the bed and leans over to release a drop over Sigyn’s relaxed lips. There’s no immediate change in her breathing. Eir leans back, and they wait as Sigyn’s chest gradually rises and falls faster. Soon her eyelids flicker, and her eyebrows draw together.

Thor can’t help but hold his breath for Loki’s sake—if they truly need whatever information she has, then even the slightest hint of her discomfort around them would hold Thor bound by his honor to leave her alone. Beside him, Loki stiffens as gradually as the girl wakes. His fingers are brittle and knuckles are white, but his eyes won’t leave her face.

After a couple minutes, Sigyn’s eyes fully open. She’s close to hyperventilating, and Eir looks just as worried as Thor feels. Then, Sigyn’s gaze passes over to Loki, and at once, shocked relief rushes through the anxious lines in her face. Tears run down her cheeks.

“Norns,” Sigyn says through an exhale. “Oh Norns, you’re alive.”

Instantly, the tension in the room breaks.

Sigyn reaches out her hand towards Loki, and without hesitating, Loki steps forward to hold it between both of his own. “I’m so sorry, Sigyn,” Loki breathes. “I’m so sorry.”

Eir seems satisfied enough by their interaction. “I’ll leave you to it then,” she says to Thor. Then she makes her way across the room towards the hallway. 

As soon as the door clicks shut behind her, Loki sits next to Sigyn upon the bed. Her other hand rises to his face as if scoping for injury. It faintly surprises Thor when Loki doesn’t even flinch at her touch, even as she probes the bandaged burn concealed beneath the glamour. “Did anyone else make it?” Sigyn’s gaze flickers to Thor. “There were—there were so many.”

“Eir said you were the last,” Thor says gravely.

Thor sees Sigyn’s hand tighten around Loki’s. “No, but the others, there were others—” Her lips tremble, but her eyes widen with hope. “The ones that were taken with you. What happened to them? What happened—after they—”

Loki releases her hand and looks away. “I don’t know,” he says avoiding Thor’s gaze. “I don’t remember much.” 

Thor frowns. Something is wrong.

“Sigyn,” Loki continues before Thor can ask. “There isn’t much time. Were you—conscious—for much of what happened in the weapons’ vault? There’s something I need to know.”

Sigyn’s pale face closes off. All emotion vacates from her face.

Thor remembers Eir’s request and thinks that maybe they can’t continue. He steps forward and places a cautionary hand on the bed frame, near her shoulder. “Sigyn, the fate of the universe may depend on your memory, but I have sworn to Eir that we will not press you if it is too much.”

“No,” she says quietly. She clasps her hands together. “No, I want to help, but—thinking about it . . .” Her hands shake. “I don’t know if I can.”

Nodding with sympathy, Loki leans forward and lowers his voice. “I just need to know the spell first used to start the binding process on my magic. It was . . .” Loki’s throat bobs as he swallows. “It was after . . . after I . . .” 

Loki glances nervously at Thor, and Thor gets a fierce sense that he’s invading a personal, private moment here. Something that Loki would rather him not see. Politely as he can, he averts his gaze as if to keep watch on the door.

“It was when I stopped fighting them,” Loki says vaguely to Sigyn. “It was after that.”

There’s no answer for long enough to concern Thor. Shifting, he glances at her. “Sigyn, do you want us to leave?”

Sigyn closes her eyes and shakes her head. Her entire body shivers with every single rise and fall of her chest. “I just—I just—”

At that moment, the door swings open and an entourage of guards storm into the room. Two approach Loki, and without any hesitation, Thor throws an arm in front of his brother and stands between them.  Behind him, he hears Loki rise to his feet and back away.

“Your Highness, please step aside,” the guard at the rear says. “Loki Laufeyson is under arrest.”

Thor grips his hammer on his belt hard at the surname. Even after everything on Asgard, after everything that happened on Midgard, Odin has always called Loki his son. To hear that now—Thor resists the temptation to turn and see Loki’s reaction and stays firm. “We are not finished here. Give us a couple more minutes.”

“I’m sorry, Prince Odinson. You do not have the authority to make that decision.”

“He has done nothing since he came here with me, and he is under my protection. Surely you can wait a short time.”

The guard twitches uncomfortably. “Your Highness, I apologize, but the All-Father clearly expressed that he is too dangerous to be upon Asgard without restraint.”

Stepping forward, Thor flashes the guards an intimidating glare. “My  _ brother _ ,” he says, voice brimming with thunder, “has never once intentionally threatened the safety of Asgard. His methods, I question, but his intentions here and now I do not. On what grounds do you dare to call him dangerous?”

“Thor, don’t—”  Loki starts.

“I have this.” Thor keeps his gaze on the guards in front of him. “What grounds?”

The guards shift uneasily and glance behind to the one in charge. The silence hovers long enough for Thor to feel unease prickling down his spine. There know more than he does.

“Along with the imprisonment and impersonation of the All-Father,” the guard finally says, voice steady, “and for the treason and conspiracy leading to the murder and capture of several of our most prized warriors and sorcerers, he is charged most severely for the murder of our Gatekeeper Heimdall.”

Thor stills. His voice catches in his throat.

“The sentence has already been decided. He is to be executed tomorrow at dusk.”

Numbing fog falls over Thor’s senses, and he can’t notice the two guards slipping past him. Sigyn’s sharp wail of protest finally jars him back in time to hear Loki’s wrists clasped in iron, but instead of fighting this, all he can do is silently turn to stare at his brother in question. This cannot be true. It cannot be.

Nothing in Loki’s posture, nothing in his face, nothing in even his normally vibrant eyes, does anything to deny it.

Thor’s chest throbs. “I promised you,” he says. In spite of everything raging in his chest, he means it. “Back in the cave, I promised you.”  _ I promised I would not leave you imprisoned here. _

Loki smiles. Through the youthful, innocent appearance of the glamour, the guilt in his smile looks wrong. It looks fake. His eyes don’t rise with the corners of his lips. Thor hates Loki’s expression, because for all the love he sees there, he doesn’t see an ounce of trust.

“I won’t hold you to it,” Loki says softly.

“Your Highness?” the guard says.

Thor relaxes his hold on his hammer and steps aside.

Amidst the sound of Sigyn’s cries and the white noise filling Thor’s ears, the guards escort Loki out of the room. Thor stands there, in silence. He stares at his own empty hands. Memories of Loki’s faithless gaze emerge repeatedly before him—when they were trapped in the cave, when Loki visited him at the Stark tower, when they fought under a swarm of Chitauri invading Midgard.

When Loki let go.

It wasn’t always like this. Somewhere along the way, his little brother lost faith in him. His brother turned into this—this thing.

At this point, can it even be justified?

“Please,” Sigyn sobs, “please don’t let them kill him.”

Thor looks at her wearily.

“When they had us—they—they were torturing all of us but him. He was b-begging for them to stop, actually begging. When—they—” A shudder twists through her shoulders. “They were going to kill all of us—starting with m-me.” In a burst of effort, she suddenly composes herself and stares directly into Thor’s eyes. “That’s when he stopped fighting them. That’s when he let them restrain him and—and hurt him. I am alive because of him.”

Thor’s lips press together and he looks back to his hands, struggling with the warring feelings draining heat from his bones.

“He’s not evil. He’s not gone,” Sigyn says. “No matter what he says, no matter what he’s done, he  _ can  _ come back.”

The silence weighs heavy in the room.

Soon enough, Sigyn starts crying again. “I’ll try to remember the spell, I swear that I’ll try. Just give me time. He can’t die, he can’t—he deserves a second chance.”

Thor closes his eyes in resignation. “He’s my Brother. Whether or not he deserves it doesn’t matter to me.”

Shoulders back, Thor turns to the door.

“Where are you going?” Sigyn asks helplessly from the bed.

Thor stops only long enough to give her his answer. “To speak to my father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How much you guys likin ‘em cliffhangers, hmm? XD Let me know.
> 
> (Also, I stg I will update as soon as I can, even if it’s the last thing I do. XD No need to doubt me, dears. <3 Though I do give permission to harass me on my tumblr @loxxxlay if you’re concerned. In fact, I have a fic progress page just for such reasons. ILY)

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to [follow me on my tumblr loxxxlay](http://loxxxlay.tumblr.com)! ^_^


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